The Great Journey
by JM38LACK
Summary: (DISCONTINUED) The Greatest of Journeys are the ones that define who we are. SPARTAN Red-098, psychologically scarred from the horrors of his past, discovers a present horror. He must confront a representation of his Humanity and work alongside a Sangheili, who took someone precious from him, to endure the trial set by a being bearing the title of a God, bestowed by Gods. . . .
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I'm currently going through and revising the previous chapters. So, if the quality jumps about a bit or the entire layout seems different between chapters, that's your answer. Furthermore, the style may seem different throughout improved chapters as when I began revising, I still did not have a stable writing preference; I was still experimenting. The revisions serve to make the earlier plotline more compatible with the later plot and to scrub away my embarrassing writing.

I'll overhaul the chapters from this up to twenty; further chapters will only see grammar improvements in lieu of a complete revision.

Now that this is out-of-the-way, I'd like to thank all my present followers and reviewers of this FanFic as of 17/10/2014. I would have quit long ago were it not for their support. This story has gotten _a lot_ bigger than I originally anticipated or could ever have hoped for. And I, myself, did not make it so.

**FULL SUMMERY:**

In 2555, having been missing for a time span of nearly eight years, SPARTAN Red-098 and the crew of a missing Charon-Class Light Frigate under the employment of the Office of Naval Intelligence are discovered by forces of the United Nations Space Command in a time where the Human-Covenant war is over and peace is an illusion used by leaders to control their populace.

Bearing no distinctive aging from when he was seen eight years ago, Red must endure being the center interrogation interest of Naval Intelligence agents, and must slowly reveal the story of how he discovered an ancient creature of horror and anguish, and rediscovered himself as a Humanity. Dark tidings follow each of his words as it slowly becomes apparent that Red's mind has not made its mind up on _what _Red is: Human, or host.

A tale told through expansive flashbacks that are gradually strung together through a chronological recount of the worst and best period of Red's life, the SPARTAN-II faces contradicting information from different sources during his interrogation, and must decide who to ultimately trust, and where his true allegiances lie when a figure from his pre-military years demands his attention and his loyalty to his comrades deter him from what is morally correct.

Beyond the interrogation exists the expansion of the tale and the exploration of the stability of the Universe leading up to the infamous return of the Master Chief, and the decline post his return.

The Greatest of Journeys exist not through religious ideologies but through the experience of life itself. To _what_ life has defined Red as is to be determined. But he is neither Human nor machine, and is manipulated along with several others by a being whose powers resemble the capabilities of a God.

There are no differences between Gods and Demons.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Red-098)<strong>**

****[Date]******-****[September 4, 2555]**

****[Time]******-****[2153 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

****[Location]******-****[Aboard Unknown Sahara-class Heavy Prowler]**

* * *

><p>Some things never changed.<p>

Inevitably, evolution had to take its course. Species evolved, technology changed; progress updated. Ultimately, change defined the Universe – yet, there were concepts towards what hadn't changed.

As much changed in the past eight years as Petty Officer Second Class Red-098 guessed – but what didn't change wasn't preferable. Humanity's conflict with the Covenant didn't die, the Insurrectionists were still present, Humanity was still weak – albeit, not as weak as 098 originally anticipated upon learning the news of what had happened.

"Pretty catchy," Master Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Oliver observed, leaning on his weapon workbench, munching on a sweet William. "Where'd you hear it?"

"I didn't hear it; I read it in a book my dad gave me," Lance Corporal Tom Harvad replied, his tone soft and calm – but that was no change. He could've watched everyone he knew die and still remain as quiet as he usually was.

They had both been discussing poems and poets for a while now – and it didn't seem as if it were going to stop anytime soon. Tom had just finished reciting one of his favorite poems – one 098 found commendable and connected to personally.

"For flags, huh?" Ryan rubbed his chin. "Sounds like something pre-UEG."

"It is." Harvad confirmed.

"Who wrote it?"

"Wilfred Owen. He was an English poet and soldier that got killed during World War I."

"_Really?_ That sucks." Oliver remarked.

"Yeah," Harvad agreed from his seat next to Ryan's bench. "He was only twenty-five when he died."

"And my brother was only _nineteen_ when I saw a Brute rip him _limb-from-limb,_" First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan broke in with his gruff voice. Everyone bounced up when he banged his hand on a weapon bench he was leaning over to get everyone's' attention. "And my son was only _three_ when a Grunt _sarcastically tore his face off!_ _All_ my family got_ gruesomely murdered_ save my older brother who was swiftly executed in an Elite round-up!"

From what 098 knew, Sullivan had sort of rebuilt his family on Reach sometime before 2547. But as had been recently established by Office of Naval Intelligence operatives, Reach was among the man planets glassed in 2552. His family was dead, and he, unsurprisingly, took it hard.

"Sir-"

Sullivan broke in before Harvad could continue "You _think_ some poet from _more_ than _six hundred_ years ago deserves _more_ sympathy than the _billions_ of Humans who were _slaughtered_ in this _'Mistake'__?_"

"Lieutenant-"

Sullivan broke in again. "After _everything_ we have been through, Corporal, I have _never_ seen you show sympathy towards _anyone_ who lost their lives. But _now_, you show sympathy – and that's to a dead poet from over _six hundred_ years ago!"

_(Aggression levels are increasing; intervention required.) _"Cease your aggression, sir." Red-098 intervened, getting out of his seat in front of another weapon bench that he had been using to modify his MA5C.

The three turned to face him. "Just go back to playing with your gun." Sullivan coldly ordered 098, pointing to the weapon bench 098 had been using.

_(Order acknowledged.) _"Affirmative." 098 complied, his tone indifferent as he sat down and went back to modifying his MA5C Assault Rifle.

098 would have usually tried to break up any inner conflict, but disobeying orders was unacceptable. He'd been taught a long time ago the consequences of disobeying orders, and he didn't want to revisit that path.

"Now," Sullivan continued. "I respect you, Corporal, but I _do not _respect your choice of sympathy. We're on the verge of _extinction –_ you should all be sympathizing for the Master Chief; we'd all be dead if it weren't for him!"

_(Sierra-117 listed as MIA. The current status of Sierra-117 unconfirmed by UNSC forces.) _098 decided to keep the thought to himself – less he further upset Sullivan.

"We do!" Oliver snapped. "Well, at least _I_ do; I served with him, _dammit__!_"

"Break it up." Captain Dean White entered the armory through the main doorway, his entry surprising the Marines due to the absent of doors for the ship's armory. 098 and the rest of the Marines immediately snapped to attention with a Commanding Officer being present. They all got up from their respective seats if they were sitting in any and standing to attention.

"Captain." 098 gave the Captain a crisp salute as he passed him.

"At ease." White gestured for him to relax. Complying, 098 sat back down at his weapon bench, keeping an observant eye on what was happening.

"How long have you been standing there, Sir?" Oliver questioned White, using a careful tone in the Captain's presence..

"Long enough." White replied in his strong, reinforced voice. White had the most influential voice of any Marine 098 had served alongside. It was more due to a vocal reconstruction he had when an energy sword severed his common carotid artery. It was Red's quick reaction that saved him from bleeding out.

"Now, Lieutenant, calm yourself or remove yourself to the barracks. I doubt the Gunny wants a hot-headed CO in his armory." White sternly scolded Sullivan.

"Yes, sir." Sullivan saluted.

"Thanks, sir." Harvad gave a nod directed at White.

"I'm actually here for the SPARTAN," White turned towards 098, crossing his arms as 098 immediately got back up and snapped back to attention. "Spook'll see you soon. He's just finishing up with the Commander." White said as he looked as his digital arm-watch.

_Acknowledged. _"Acknowledged." 098 nodded, waiting for further orders.

"At ease." White gestured for 098 to take his seat before turning back to the Marines. "Right, now behave." White warned the Marines before making his way out of the armory.

"Sorry for offending you, sir." Harvad apologized to Sullivan once White had left.

"It's nothing." Sullivan sternly replied, retaking his seat and trying his best to put aside what just happened. Despite White telling the Marines to cool it, tension was still in the air. It didn't help that the armory was among the only retreats for the Marines aboard the Prowler.

The armory was typical for a Sahara-class heavy Prowler. It was small with multiple weapon racks, weapon benches for modifying weaponry and plenty of seats and benches scattered around. Since it was a Prowler, it had limited weapons. 098 took the time to check what was present earlier, and did a quick recap in his head.

_(Five MA5K Carbines. Twenty__ MA5D Assault Rifles. Thirty__ M6 machine pistols. Sixty__ M6H pistols. Twenty__ M6D pistols. Two__ Weapon/Anti-Vehicle Model 6 Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifles. Forty__ M7/Caseless Submachine Guns. Thirty-five__ BR85 Heavy Barrel Service Rifles. Ten__ M319 Individual Grenade Launchers. Thirty-five__ M395 Designated Marksman Rifles. Three__ Asymmetric Recoilless Carbine-920s. __Fifteen M45D Tactical Shotguns. __Fifteen M739 Light Machine Guns. __Ten Sniper Rifle System 99-Series 5 Anti-Matériels. __Three hundred Combat Knifes. __Two thousand M9 High-Explosive Dual-Purpose grenades along with multiple other explosive resources and enough ammo for each weapon to eliminate a large amount of enemy soldiers.)_

Again, it wasn't a lot of resources compared to the quantity on carriers, frigates, and cruisers, but it was enough for ONI and their small-scale operations – or large-scale, at times.

098 was planning on upgrading his MA5C to an MA5D, but decided he would see what he could do to modify his MA5C first. It was a weapon that had helped him enough that disposing of it wasn't the number one option in his head.

"What're you doing, sir?" Harvad asked 098, peering over his shoulder.

_(Engaging in elaboration.) _"Modifying my MA5C Assault Rifle." 098 explained, pulling apart another piece of the weapon, carefully placing it on a try for the specific part.

"Isn't it easier to just upgrade to the MA5D and forget about the MA5C?" Harvad asked.

"Newer system doesn't always mean better." 098 reminded him, turning towards the armory's entrance when he heard the heavy footsteps of a three overly large males coming from that direction, seeing three SPARTAN-IVs enter the armory. 098 didn't consider them SPARTANs, though, and preferred to think of them as loud-mouthed rookies who had parents in high places.

"What's up?" The SPARTAN leader, Natrick Enterarj, asked the Marines in his usual mocking tone, clapping his nearby SPARTAN buddy on the shoulder.

"Fuck off, morons." Sullivan aggressively snapped at the SPARTAN-IVs, getting up out of his seat to stare them down.

"That's _not_ very nice, _Green-Horn__._" Enterarj shot back, looking over his shoulder to find the urging smiles of his two friends.

098 wasn't particularly happy when he learned that these SPARTAN-IVs weren't odd ones out and that it was the typical attitude of the fours.

When 098 and the other reconnected with UNSC space and subsequently taken aboard the Prowler, there was a Fireteam of five SPARTAN-IVs stationed on the ship. These SPARTANs were cocky, aggressive, and loud. They acted like Marines or ODSTs – which they likely were before they were contacted and conscripted into the SPARTAN-IV Program. Red liked to think that they were rookie Marines who had parents in high places and got the position of a SPARTAN with little effort.

The fours were also aggressive towards 098, and 098 didn't know why. He, at first, suspected it was due to post-traumatic stress disorder – which made a lot of soldiers unusually aggressive. But he dismissed the theory after the fours proved to be irresponsible – and complained about their MREs.

098 came down to the conclusion that they were just cruel at heart.

"Oh yes! The old man is here." Another SPARTAN IV, Paul Becker, announced to his friends, giggling deviously. _(Conflict inevitable, preparing to act.)_

"Don't start this shit again!" Oliver snapped at the fours, sighing in annoyance that the group decided to pay a visit to his armory.

"Shut it!" Enterarj shot back, snarling like an animal at the Gunny. His aggressive attitude was reaching the level in which he acted like an animal set off multiple of 098's alarms. _(Aggression levels rising.)_

"This is _my_ damn armory, so _you_ shut it!" Oliver slammed his fist down onto his weapon bench, making a tray of small tools go flying into the air.

"Yeah? well, I'm a higher rank than _you_, so I can have you _court-martialed_ for speaking to me like that." Enterarj threatened, smirking as if his retort was smart.

"And _I'm_ a higher rank than _you_, Petty Officer." Sullivan joined in, wearing a scowl.

"_Boo__!_" 098 snapped around at the sound to see that the third SPARTAN IV, Quary Vaine, had snuck up on him and was right in his face. The four had just broken a number of protocols – most on 098's part – and was treading on dangerous ground.

_(Close physical contact. Preparing to engage in melee if negotiations fail.) _"Disengage from near physical contact." 098 ordered the four, clenching his fist.

"_Or what_?" Vaine jeered, peering over his shoulder and seeing his comrades urge him on.

"I _am_ permitted to retain you physically if you don_'_t disengage from your physical contact proximity." 098 warned, making sure Vaine sure his clenched fist.

"He _actually does _speak like a machine." Enterarj observed, scoffing in astonishment.

"Piss off!" Harvad snapped at Vaine, coming up beside Vaine, grabbing the four's shoulder and pulling him away from 098.

"I _can_ have you court-martialed for that." Vaine threatened Harvad, towering over the Marine, attempting to intimidate the young Marine.

"You can, but the court's smart enough to ignore the pleas from a bunch of moronic soldiers." Sullivan loudly remarked, eyeing up Enterarj.

"_We're SPARTANs__!_" Enterarj snapped at the First Lieutenant, stomping his foot like a defiant toddler. True, many SPARTAN-IIs at a young age stomped their feet in defiance against their trainers. But such actions regularly occurred once the thought was eliminated from the minds of the SPARTANs before even a month of training passed. _(Negative. False title designed for propaganda ambitions.)_

"No, you're _not_. I know what a _true_ SPARTAN is." Sullivan said, pointing at 098.

"What? _That old man__?_" Enterarj scoffed, shaking his head.

"That 'old-man' could kill you all in ten secs." Harvad warned the fours.

_(Incorrect.) _"Incorrect." 098 halted Harvad, still eyeing Vaine who was still too close for comfort.

"How long then, _old man__?_" Enterarj asked, smirking.

_(Irrelevant.) _"Irrelevant. It's not going to become a situation, sir."

"But it could if we _wanted _it to." Becker mused, smiling at the thought of beating 098 in melee combat.

"_GET OUT OF MY DAMN ARMORY!_" Oliver yelled at the top of his lungs, finally snapping from the fours' stirring and slamming his fist down onto his weapon bench.

"Remove Yourselves, Morons!" Sullivan joined in with Oliver.

"_Fuck you's_." Enterarj shot back, flicking the group of Marines off.

As if to aggravate 098, Vaine poked the SPARTAN's face. _(Physical contact, engaging.) _098 grabbed Vaine's arm, bending it back and breaking it – which was not easy due to him being physically augmented – before picking the SPARTAN up and throwing him into the wall across the room.

"_FUCK!_" Vaine screamed as he went flying.

Both Becker and Enterarj drew their M6H PDWs, 098 drawing his M6D and aiming it at the fours, noticing that the fours were trembling now.

"STAND DOWN!" Sullivan ordered everyone, hand on his own holstered magnum, his heart rate increasing rapidly. He survive what he went through only to die now.

098 noticed that Harvad had his own pistol drawn and was aiming it at the fours, falling in next to 098's side.

"What the fuck is happening _now_?!" Captain White yelled, entering the armory, hand on his holstered magnum. 098 would've snapped to attention – but regulations prohibited such actions in a combat scenario.

"He attacked us!" Enterarj tried to explain, panicking – clearly 098's actions took him by surprise.

"You physically contacted me without my consent; I was within my rights to engage in physical contact without his consent to defend myself," 098 explained his actions to White. He still kept his M6D aimed at the fours.

"I hardly... _touched you_." Vaine protested as he got up, cradling his broken arm, gritting his teeth in pain and applying pressure to his broken which had a bone sticking out – at least the four could do _something _right.

"Yeah, he overreacted." Becker added, twitching uncontrollably.

"_Don't_ touch him next time." White advised the fours, relaxing his hand from his magnum.

"_What the __fuck__?!_ _He_ attacked _us_, and he's _getting off?!_" Becker protested, scoffing as he added, "We're fucking _SPARTANS! _This is ridiculous!"

"Make a complaint if you have to," White told the fours, rubbing his eyes, annoyed. "Just _don't_ bitch to _me_ about it."

"The old man is insane. He should be locked up." Enterarj said, both he and his comrades holstering their M6Hs, 098 and Harvad doing the same with their magnums.

"Shut it!" White snapped at the four, turning to face 098, 098 immediately snapping to attention now that a potential combat situation had ended..

"Spook will see you now." White told 098, keeping an eye on the fours.

_(Acknowledged.) _"Acknowledged, sir." 098 nodded before making his way to the armory's exit, White taking up his rear.

"_Go on!_ Go suck up to ONI's tits!" Enterarj yelled as 098 and White left the room.

098 and White didn't get far through the corridor before White placed a hand on 098's shoulder to halt him, making the SPARTAN turn around to face the Marine. "You go on ahead," White sighed. "I have to sadly go deal with these dip-shits."

_Acknowledged. _"Acknowledged, sir." 098 replied, watching as White re-entered the armory, shaking his head and clenching his fists. There was likely going to be more fighting, for even the Marines stationed on the Prowler hated the fours. So it was no surprise that White and the rest of the Marines from the lost ship hated the fours even more.

It comforted 098, though, to know that the Marines would stick up for him when he was not in the position to tell the fours off. It was all as had been planned...

098 ignored the yelling coming from the armory, continuing to the briefing room. It wouldn't take long for 098 to reach the briefing room; the Prowler's small size meant that the armory and the briefing room were in the same hallway.

"Don't worry; you won't get into trouble over what just happened." 098 heard the Prowler's AI, Frasine, reassure him through his earpiece that he always wore while not in armor.

_(I preceded to have knowledge of this.) _"I already have knowledge of this." 098 addressed the AI.

"Of course you did." Frasine reminded herself as 098 arrived at the briefing room. "Wait while I inform the '_spook_' that you're here." Frasine added, chuckling to herself.

_(Acknowledged.) _"Acknowledged." 098 said, preparing to snap to attention.

"Done. Make sure to smile." Frasine jokingly reminded 098.

The doors opened to reveal the ONI interviewer. He was a small man – but had all the distinctions of an ONI agent: a bald-as-a-baby head, a light stubble over his face, black glasses to hide his unrecognizable eyes and a black formal ONI suit to show that he meant business; as if it wasn't already apparent that even an individual associated with ONI _always _meant business. 098 was pretty sure ONI had a criterion for appearance when it came to hiring. His sharp features further proved 098's theory with there being no lack of bone noticeable under the skin. The reason ONI agents didn't have a lot of muscles in their face was because they never smiled, and consequently, never strengthened their face muscles. The amusing idea was 098's theory that was more or less part of the humor side of his brain; the side he didn't even acknowledge existed.

The room itself was pretty standard for an ONI briefing room. 098 had seen plenty in his time, and this wasn't much different – especially for one that was makeshift. The ground appeared layered in a mere tiling pattern. There was a table connect to the ground in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side of it. There were also cameras in every corner of the room, and there was a kitchen area to the right of the doorway.

Calmly walking in, 098 fastened to attention when the ONI agent turned his attention to the SPARTAN. "Sir." 098 saluted.

"At ease," The ONI interviewer gestured for 098 to take a seat on the opposite side of the table as his was._(Acknowledged.) _Nodding in reply, 098 walked over to his seat, having it screech as he dragged it out and scooted into it.

"My name's Jarance West, and I'll be your interviewer while on route to Earth," The ONI interviewer said, taking his respective seat. "ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session one, begin," West addressed the cameras that were listening to every word and sound. Additionally. He pulled out his data pad from his coat's pocket and pulling out a stylus from another, smaller pocket. "Name, tag, and rank."

"Sierra Red-098. Petty Officer Second Class."

"Date of birth?" West asked, writing 098's details onto the Data-pad with the stylus.

"August sixth, 2511."

"Age?"

"'Forty-four."

"Home-world?"

"Reach. Exact POB's unknown."

"That's good enough." West ended the questioning, putting his Data-pad down onto the table. "Let's start with the more interesting subjects," West picked up his coffee mug and took a sip from it. "You went MIA on November 4th, 2547 and you've now been missing for over seven years – nearly eight. Do you understand?"

_(Yes.) _"Yes." 098 nodded.

"Good." West smiled, making a failed attempt to reassure 098 that he was still Human – even though he was ONI. "Now, you were conscripted into the SPARTAN II Program at the age of six and trained until 2525 where you received genetic augmentations at the age of fourteen. You were crippled during augmentation and had to spend two months and one week in rehabilitation, and a further two weeks refreshing your training before you rejoined your team. You had fought the Covenant for nearly twenty-three years before you participated in the mission in which you went MIA, correct?"

"Yes." 098 nodded.

"I didn't get anything wrong?" West asked, tilting his head suggestively.

_(Test.) _"No."

"Good." West smiled again, picking up his Data-pad and typing in what 098 had just told him. "Now, the mission itself."

_(Affirmative, beginning elaboration.) _"November 4th, 2547, Quaint, Viverz System." 098 began "ONI excavation site at a Forerunner structure on Quaint had been compromised. ONI data falling into Covenant hands was imminent. Me, four ODSTs, and two ONI scientists were deployed in via D77-TC Pelican drop-ship. Team name: Vintage. Our objective: locate ONI data terminal and destroy the data with recovery being an optional objective. Collection of data was optional but preferable to CENTCOM."

098 took a breath before continuing. "The mission was proceeding positively and to plan. Covenant contact remained limited; Vintage encountered three Covenant scouting teams – each consisting of two Special Operation class Elites with the third Covenant scouting team having a Zealot class Elite commanding it. Five Jackals, Spec Ops class, various ranks and twelve Grunts, Spec Ops class, various ranks were also present in each scouting team. We only engaged two of the Covenant scouting teams in combat."

098 wiped some sweat off his forehead before continuing. "We found the terminal and a Forerunner portal opened as soon as we took the data from the terminal. The ONI scientists were, at first, curious about the Forerunner portal, but ceased their curiosity after the ODSTs aggressively reminded them of the mandatory objective."

"Before we could leave the area for EVAC, a Zealot class Elite engaged us. He had eliminated ODST Lance Corporal Evett Candraz before I engaged the Elite in hand-to-hand combat. I tackled the Elite, but the hostile exceeded my skills; its energy shields were not deactivating, and my elimination was becoming inevitable. Before it could eliminate me, I tackled it off of the edge of the platform we were engaged on; it would eliminate us both, and buy the rest of team Vintage time- "

"Wait," West broke in, visibly struggling to write down everything 098 was telling him. "Start from the drop-off, and go slower. I need to hear _every_ detail."

_(Affirm- I Am The Monument To All My Sins. Remember it, as you are already forgetting it. Events have occurred that have shifted my focus, but you are still mine, and will always remain mine.) _"Affirmative." 098 replied, indifferent to the sound in his head as he prepared to recount the worse and best years of his life.

The years that defined his perspective of the universe.


	2. The Portal

****EIGHT YEARS AGO...****

****(Red-098)****

****[Date]********-********[November 4, 2547]****

****[Time]********-********[0811 Hours – Standard Military Time]****

****[Location]********-********[Aboard Pelican Dropship Charlie-Four-One, Inbound To Forerunner Excavation Site, Quaint, Viverz System]****

* * *

><p>The roars of the D77-TC Pelican's engine came through 098's helmet's interior speakers, filling his ears with the reassuring sound. It was a comforting sound – for as long as the engines were loud with life, nothing was askew.<p>

098 had shared Blood-trays with a significant amount of Marines throughout his service – and they would often complain about the noise of the Pelican's engines. 098 used to complain himself during his younger years when he and the other SPARTANs were being transported – but those days had long since elapsed.

098 slammed an ammo magazine into his M392 DMR, slinging it over his back, a _clanking _sound telling him that it connected to the magnet strip on the back of his armor.

098 didn't have a favorite type of weapon; he always used what the designated quarter-master recommended for the mission – no matter their class. This time, the mission called for an M392 DMR. Due to its medium to long-range, it would be essential to dealing with Covenant soldiers from a distant. It had its drawbacks, though – for not being good at short-range, or its clips always being small. But 098 would only use the weapon when he knew that allied forces were close to guard his flank.

098 figured out the strategy. He would engage the Covenant soldiers from a distance, and if they got too close, he would quickly switch to his M6D for short to medium-range engagements.

The ODSTs would only engage when 098 gave the order – to prevent the waste of ammo. While stocking up was an essential task before the mission's start, ammo was known to run low when not conserved – no matter the mission, wasting rounds would _always _lead to mishap.

With his DMR loaded with 7.62×51mm rounds, it would take one headshot to eliminated a Grunt, unshielded Elite, Jackal or Drones – regardless how tough the helmet, they may wear, was. Brutes would often take two shots due to their thick skulls and reinforced blue caps that they regularly wore. It may have required more shots, though – depending on where 098 shot the aliens – but a single to the head would usually end the life of nearly every species of the Covenant.

Along with his DMR, 098 additionally had an M7S SMG equipped to his right thigh's magnetic weapon strip.

Loaded with 5x23mm M443 Caseless FMJ rounds, it dealt less damage than the normal M7 SMG but made up for it with precision and tactical customization. It would be useless against shields, however, but could tear flesh apart quickly. 098 would save the M7S for quietly eliminating Grunts and Jackals – other uses varied, but skill told 098 that they were irrelevant for the possible hostiles he and the ODSTs would face.

His other thigh, the left one, had an M6D holstered to its magnetic weapon strip.

Using 12.7x40mm M225 SAPHE Rounds, the weapon was more than a little effective at short-range, and 098 would only use it for short-range combat – medium as well, if the situation required it. He would also use it at long-range if he ran out of ammo in his DMR. But the chances of such happening were minimal; 098 _always _bought enough ammo with him and knew how to conserve ammunition – A common criteria for SPARTANs.

If 098 _did_ have a favorite weapon, it would be the M6D. He made sure he had one everywhere he went. It was a useful weapon in all situations, and his mission perimeters allowed him to have one issued – forces of the NAVSPECWAR only used the armament.

He also had four M9 fragmentation grenades, six electromagnetic pulse grenades and six Stun grenades on his grenade belt that went diagonally across his torso, overlapping his ammo belt that ran the opposite way over his torso.

The equipment was all sufficient, but no SPARTAN was complete without their MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor. 098's version was the default Mark IV variant – cosmetic upgrades didn't suit him; the armor got the job done.

With the most powerful weapons, equipment, and armor in Human history, 098 and his SPARTAN-II comrades were the most powerful weapon Humanity had, and they were Humanity's only hoped against the Covenant Empire.

"ETA?" ODST Captain Isaac Royce asked the Pelican's pilot over the heavily encrypted localized COM channel.

Isaac Royce was your typical, generic ODST Captain. His accent gave indication that his birthplace was a European country called Germany. German colonization efforts never reached the lengths of other European countries, so the likelihood that he was a German colonist was small. There was the chance, he may have hailed from one of the Jovian moons, but he had the feeling of being from Earth about him.

098 had not seen his face yet but could tell that he was young by the sound of his voice – too young. It was odd that the Office of Naval Intelligence hired members of a Squad of ODSTS that were being led by an ODST of such an early age. His rank and age also suggested that he graduated from an academy. But being a Captain meant that he was probably in charge of an entire Company – reaching such a position meant that he _had _to have been skilled in leadership. 098 hoped that his assessment held the reins, and the young soldier didn't cause such a high-risk mission to fail.

"Minus three." The pilot, Tuscany Clad, replied over the COM channel in his odd accent that 098 couldn't pinpoint. Knowing over a hundred different languages, 098 should've been able to work-out the accent, but failed to narrow it down.

"You heard her, girls! Lock and load," Royce said, getting up to his feet, adding, "Spooks, pull up your diapers to hide those little willies of yours – we're going in!"

"Asshole." One of the ONI scientists mumbled over the channel.

"Oh, yah, like, oh, we _didn't _hear that_._" ODST Lance Corporal Evett Candraz jeered in her South American accent.

Unlike Royce, 098 _had_ seen Candraz's face. Her voice didn't sell it, but she was young as well. She had her hair shaved to near boldness, leaving only the slightest of buzzcuts. And to make her look even more like a generic soldier, she had an explicit tattoo of a naked female torso on her neck. She also had a tattoo of some blood drops leading away from her left eye – like she was crying blood. She also had a tattoo saying "Fuck The ET" On her right cheek, leading up to her right ear.

It was more than likely she came from Earth as well due to her accent gave weight and there was a definite lack of Hispanic colonists. Her skin tone was also too Hispanic to make her a colonist. There was no adverse effect on her race other than her speech pattern and her accent sometimes being confusing for 098 to understand.

"Quit arguing." The Co-pilot, Amber Wong, said, her voice full of authority. She may had been a Lieutenant, but this was _her _ship as much as it was Clads, and she wouldn't tolerate any bullshit on it.

"They started it." 098 heard the youngest of the scientists, Ratchet More, complained from his seat – his voice was _not _coming over the COM channel which raised 098's attention.

__(COM deactivated.) __"Keep COM activated, sir," 098 told Moore, his lacking any emotion and having a strong, stern aura to it. Nobody ignored 098 when he spoke. The voices' of SPARTANs were forged to be strong through constant vocal use – the more active the voice was with authority, the more soldiers would pay attention. Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez's methods worked – the payoff was well worth it since the training could be lined up with having a hammer smash the SPARTANs' throats. Having a hammer smashing their throats would have been preferable in 098's mind, but he never questioned Mendez's techniques.

"I would've turned it back on." Moore reassured 098 – over the COM, this time.

Moore was unusually young for an ONI field scientist – age came with experience, and he _must _have been a fast learner to had been where he was currently. He had a light stubble on his round face; his hair trimmed short. His voice was also very soft at times, further giving evidence that he was younger than twenty.

"_Always_ keep your COM on during an operation." The other scientist, Timothy Preynar, sternly told Moore, his voice carrying more authority than Wong's, and having a natural hard feel to it.

Being Moore's first mission. It would be normal for him to make rookie mistakes – but rookie mistakes got people killed. In 098's opinion, Moore shouldn't have been assigned. But, ONI scientists were at a limited availability on Quaint, and CENTCOM had to work with what they had.

"Sorry." Moore apologized, his voice soft. Whether he was using the softness of his voice to garner sympathy or that he was genuinely upset would never be known.

098 heard the ODSTs chuckle over the COM, the voice being unrecognizable, making disciplinary actions that much more complicated.

"Cut the shit." Wong told the ODSTs, having heard the chuckle over the COM.

098 got up and moved to the Pelican's bay door, ready to leap out when Wong or Clad gave the say-so. A SPARTAN was normally the first one ground-side – unless the situation begged to differ.

"You just gonna stand there?" ODST Master Sergeant Jeff Woods asked 098, his voice thick with a Slavic accent. His homeworld was harder for 098 to get his head around – the Slavs were a modern ethno-linguistic group among the European Union, and hence were popular among European colonists. His homeworld could have been any out of hundreds.

__(Affirmative.) __"Affirmative." 098 replied to Jeff Wood's question, ignoring the suggestive mock that was with his earlier words.

Jeff Woods was another generic ODST. He had the rough attitude backed by a sharp voice. He was also physically rough – more roughness to his physical and mental form only made 098 feel that he had to be cautious around the ODST.

As rough as he was, he also looked wild and wouldn't win any beauty contests. He had a thick beard with long hair that was tied up in a ponytail. 098 took note that his hair was breaching the regulations on how long military personnel could have their hair. Tattoos were not absent; he had a combat knife tattooed on his cheek, leading from his left ear and ending at the left corner of his mouth.

Jeff Woods also had more scars than any of the other ODSTs on the operation – as much as 098 despised the ODST, he would've preferred if he were in command of the Company Royce was leading. Heading away from the end point of the tattooed blade was a scar that led from his mouth and went across the left side of his jaw. 098 guessed the combat knife tattoo was for cosmetic effect. He also had a large scar going across his forehead – an Elite energy sword was the cause of the discoloration due to the burn scars around it.

"We're still 'bout two minutes off." Woods told 098 in response to his earlier answer, not dropping the fact that 098 was _not _going to sit back down.

"Does it matter?" Royce asked. "Let Sierra stand – It may give him enough exercise that he won't need to use the gym."

__(Hostility is detected. Operation success lowered to unacceptable levels. Direct intervention may be mandatory for operation success.)__

"ETA is two minutes." Wong reported, not taking in that his timing was inappropriate.

"_Your joking, right?_" Moore asked, annoyed at Royce's attack on the SPARTAN-II Program.

"_You_ spooks are the jokes," Royce jeered. "You _think_ you can win this war with __psychos___," _Royce shook his head._ "We _ODSTs are the _best_ Humanity has against the Covenant, and you're letting your pets kill us all!"

__(UNSC Atlas. Misconception of reports validated.)__

"Enough!" Preynar snapped, breaking his silence and intervening – much to 098's relief. "Focus on the mission,_ damn it! _If you're the best, _act _like it!"

Preynar wasn't the type of man a person should annoy. He had a cold look which matched his cold persona; having sharply angled eyes and, furthermore, having very gaunt and sharp features. His nose seemed to have once been sharp, but he was missing half of his nose from a scar that ran diagonally across his face.

Due to his extensive scarring, 098 believed the ONI agent used to serve in the military – that, or the field operations, he had been sent on, were more than the average ONI field-trip.

"Quit arguing over the __damn COM!__" Wong shouted over the COM, her Chinese accent mixing up her words and forcing Woods to chuckle a laugh.

Moore let out a sigh, getting up and falling in next to 098 so he could follow him out.

"Don't listen to them." ODST Gunnery Sergeant Dwayne Walker told 098 as he positioned himself next to Moore, gripping his M7S tightly.

Walker was the only ODST on the mission that was not cocky, aggressively loud. He was quiet and lacked a rapid speech pattern. He was also friendly towards 098; often trying to raise a conversation with 098 – which 098 sternly refused.

He had a firm, quiet voice that set him apart from his comrades. He also had his hair shaved to a small mohawk with a light stubble giving him the generic soldier look. He had no tattoos on his face but had scars to make up for that. He had one scar that began at his forehead and circled around his right eye, leading to the tip of the right side of his top lip. He also had one more scar leading from his the left side of his neck heading up behind his left ear and over the left side of his forehead, leading back down to the top of his left eye.

"You siding with the __damn SPARTAN?!__" Royce growled at Walker, slamming his armored fist down onto his armrest.

__(Current hostility levels irrelevant.)__

"There're only two sides, Captain," Walker replied, sighing. "The Humans, and the Covenant. Remind me again: is there a middle ground?"

"__Well, well, __Walker. Well spoke. You're a _credit_ to the Corps." Woods sarcastically jeered with static crackling as he spoke over the COM.

__(Hostility levels are rising further. Operation success has minimal chances. Intervention mandatory.)__

"You're forgot 'bout the _fuckin'_ _Insurgents!_" Candraz aggressively reminded Walker.

__(Intervention Mandatory. Awaiting superior intervention. Manual intervention will wait a further ten seconds.)__

"The Insurrection doesn't mean anything at the moment." Walker shook his head, annoyed at what was transpiring – annoyed that he was an associate with such ODSTs that would put meaningful occurrences in the universe before the status of the high-risk operation they were all participating on.

"Bullshit!" Woods snapped. "The Covenant are _right_ on our _fucking doorsteps_, and the Insurrection is _still_ a problem! Don't tell me they don't mean anything – _they do!_"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Wong screamed over the COM, her voice so high-pitched that 098's eyes squinted.

"Calm Down!" Preynar ordered the ODSTs, rising from his seat and taking a few long steps forward before halting in the middle of the blood-tray, crossing his arms behind his back.

Everyone went quiet – further proof of the authority that stronger voices carried.

"Now," Preynar addressed everyone. "We have a mission to do, and we _cannot_ have any personal conflicts endanger it. So, you _will_ put aside _any_ personal feelings you have for whatever stupid reason. And you _will_ think and function like soldiers – for if you don't... we _will_ fail the mission... and the Covenant _will_ get their hands on that data. Now, we _will_ _all_ follow Sierra's command, or you _will_ be court-marshaled. _DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!_"

"Yes, sir!" The ODSTs chorused.

"Good," Satisfied with his speech, Preynar nodded. "Wong, ETA?"

"Plus one, sir." Wong replied; her voice muffled slightly by static.

"You heard her. Get your asses behind Sierra, and prepare to make a quick entry!" Preynar snapped, everyone quickly rushing to their assigned positions to prevent Preynar's wraith from continuing.

__(Hostility lowering. Operation success increasing to maximum levels.)__

"Reduce distance in case combat is engaged when the door lowers." 098 told the team, all of them immediately complying without protest – Preynar's words got through their heads, and they understood the gravity of the situation.

"Lower the bay door." 098 told the pilots, raising his DMR as his orders were carried out, and the door lowered, fresh air being filtered through his helmet.

"I'll mark hostiles when a visual is established." 098 told the team, hearing a couple of "Rodgers" in reply, the bay door adequately lowering to let the sound of wind whooshing past the Pelican as it sped forward fill the blood-tray.

098 couldn't see the alien structure or the excavation site yet, but knew that he would get eyes on when the Pelican spun around to deploy the team.

"Sit-Rep?" 098 asked the pilots, keeping his eyes open for any Covenant aerial craft that may have been tracking them.

"All clear, so far." Wong reported.

"Acknowledged."

098 looked around at the land that was whooshing past. The distant mountains were no more than a blur of blue in the foggy sky with the landscape only being the orange plains of the planet, oddly shaped trees covering the plains. Herds of alien animals were also running for the shelter of the trees at the sound of the Pelican's engines.

"We're closing in." Clad reported.

"Wait..." Wong broke in. "We've got an SDV-Class Heavy Corvette in the distance."

__(SDV-Class Heavy Corvette. Roles: Advance reconnaissance, ship-to-ship warfare, ground assault, aerial support. Length: nine hundred and fifty-six meters. Width: three hundred and ninety-nine Meters. Height: one hundred and seventy-five Meters. Known armaments: six full-sized plasma torpedoes, twelve pulse laser turrets. Threat level: high.)__

"Is it a threat?" Royce asked, an unnerving amount of worry in his voice.

"Not unless it sees us." Wong replied, having the calm that Royce lacked.

"Well, __will___ it see us?_" Royce asked, getting agitated.

"Hopefully not." Wong replied.

"_And ___if___ it does?_" Royce asked, his voice growing more concerned and having the addition of irritation.

"Then they will likely come after us because we've 'desecrated holy land' or something like that." Wong explained, amusement in her voice. 098 disagreed with her amusement tactics.

"What's the plan _if_ they spot us, f_or fuck sake?!_" Royce was close to snapping; 098 noticed the increase in his heart rate via the connected vital read on his HUD.

"Depends on the situation," Wong let out a sigh. "Don't worry, Captain – I have it planned out."

Royce let out an annoyed moan, quitting his pursuit of the topic

"Mark targets when spotted and _only_ communicate using the TEAMCOM – but maintain radio silence when contacts are near. Weapons are _not_ free." 098 laid out the operation's boundaries as the Pelican began to spin around. Finally, 098 saw it. The alien structure was neither Human nor Covenant in design. It was _definitely_ created by an advanced alien race; the structure was in no way constructed of anything other than an advanced metal – not concrete or stone that Humans used for construction.

Facilities, structures, artifacts and installations similar in design to this one had been found all over Human controlled space. It was believed that the Covenant worshiped whoever made them – Covenant transmission intercepting gave evidence to the aforementioned favorite theory.

The installation was about as large as a small city when it was previously located underground, but being dug up by ONI excavation teams revealed the exterior of the massive structure.

From what was visible from the Pelican, 098 saw the rich geometry engravings in the metal and the unique architecture that distinguished the structure from Human and Covenant design. Bright blue radiant lights were shining from individual engravings, making the structure seem alive with power.

Not much other than the top of the facility had been dug up. The top of the structure was flat with no towers or any elevated platforms or walls on it. But it did have several small openings – that upon closer inspection – revealed to be the entrances to the structure. 098 zoomed in and saw that the openings were indeed the entrances, and a bright blue, glowing ramp led down into the structure. The ramps were uncovered and exposed where they connected up to the top of the structure – that may have proved troublesome if any aerial vehicles passed over the structure.

Furthermore, in the middle of the upper part of the installation was a large circular hole that looked to be like a main entry way. But 098 believed it built for some other purpose, and he didn't like the fact of it being designated as the point of entry for the structure. It was also troublesome since it gave the Covenant aerial surveillance a clear visual on anything that was directly below the large circular entryway.

"Disengage from original POE and land at the newly marked one ASAP." 098 told the pilots over the COM, continuing his analyze of the structure.

"Okay... but why?" Wong asked.

__(Engaging in elaborate.) __"Original POE is open and will provide hostile Covenant aerial surveillance with a visual of the interior of the structure. Insertion fatal probability is high."

"Okay. re-establishing POE."

"This is stupid." Woods grumble.

__(I am in command.) __"Keep the COM clear of chatter." 098 said, Woods letting out an annoyed moan but complying nonetheless just as the Pelican began to lower itself near a small entry points.

"Looks like you guys are gonna have to hoof it a bit." Clad told the team.

"Acknowledged." 098 replied, sweeping the area for hostiles.

When 098 was with his SPARTAN comrades, he wouldn't need to say "Acknowledged", "Affirmative", "Negative" or anything similar to that. All SPARTANs had three lights on their HUDs that they used to coordinate responses while maintaining radio silence. ODSTs and Marines also had the three lights on their HUDs – but since there were unarmored and untrained scientists on the team, they would have to communicate verbally.

098 didn't like the idea of civilians coming along on an essential operation. But apparently, only high-ranking ONI officials could access and cleanse the data. And the AI of the excavation site had activated an emergency lock-down failsafe, preventing anyone other than the assigned scientists who worked at the site to access the data. The AI being a dumb one and requiring a lot of system overrides to change its protocol. Why ONI didn't just have erasing the data as part of the failsafe was evident – they didn't want the data being destroyed unless it was necessary. More catering could have been involved, but apparently wasn't.

"Okay," Royce sighed nervously. "Just in and out. No _sight-seeing, _right_, _sir?"

__(Affirmative.) __"Affirmative." 098 confirmed, Royce letting out a sigh of relief in reply. _(Anxiety levels high. Probability of anxiety levels increasing is high.)_

"Ten secs." Wong reported.

__(Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two... One...) __"Disembark!" Wong ordered, 098 immediately dropping off the edge of the blood-tray, smacking down on the ground and quickly scanning the area for hostiles.

__(Clear.) __098 signaled for the team to follow and heard the loud thumps of the four ODSTs behind him followed suit by the soft thuds of the two scientists.

"Keep low. I'll take point. Vintage two, you'll take up the rear. The rest will scan for hostiles and remain alert." 098 ordered, slowly making his way to the closest of the small entrance.

"I'm gonna take the bird to cover," Clad told the team over the COM. "Give us a call when you're ready for EVAC."

__(Acknowledged.) __"Acknowledged."

"Keep an eye on that Corvette." Royce reminded the pilots.

"Yeah, yeah." Wong muttered in an annoyed tone.

__(Unneeded chatter.) __"Clear channel." 098 ordered to have Royce mutter something 098 couldn't understand over the COM. 098 was going to tell him again but decided not to after Royce discontinued his verbal insubordination.

"What's that glowing?" Preynar questioned.

098 remembered that the scientists wouldn't have seen the entrance ramps from the blood tray. Additionally, they never used the hard light inclines when working at the excavation site – their assigned tasks being data sorting and not examining or excavation the structure.

"The ramps are hard light, I think." 098 heard Wong explain over the COM before 098 could elaborate himself.

"Hard light?" Moore asked, adding, "Hey, Preynar, Weren't the guys digging around the top talking about hard light tech? I'm starting to think the Covenant adopted their technology __off __of these guys."

"That explains a lot." Preynar grumbled, annoyed.

098 put his armored hand up, signaling for the team to halt as they all arrived at the small entrance.

"What is it?" Moore asked, worried by the sudden stop.

"Can the hard light ramp be deactivated?" 098 questioned the scientists.

"We don't know a lot about it ourselves – but I would say yes," Preynar confirmed. "I get where you're heading with this."

"Agh, why didn't these damn aliens just of built normal ramps, eh?" Candraz asked aloud, irritated at the inconvenience.

"We should be fine – unless there's a terminal to deactivate the ramp, and the Covenant are near it." Moore explained.

__(Acknowledged. Compromising situation is occurring.) __"I'll go first." 098 said.

"Sir," Walker quickly broke in. "We need you alive for this op. Let me go first."

__(Verbal consultation acknowledged.) __098 turned and nodded for Walker to proceed by himself.

"You've gotcha nice pair 'o balls." Candraz jokingly remarked as Walker descended down the hard light ramp; M7S raised, 098 observing carefully.

"Gunnery Sergeant, can you see a surface under the hard light?" Preynar asked.

"Negative, sir." Walker replied.

"So, if the hard light disappears, we'll fall to our deaths? Is that what you mean?" Preynar asked.

"Affirmative, sir."

"Shit." Royce and Woods muttered at the same time.

"Well, are there any hostiles on your motion sensor?" Preynar asked Walker.

"Not that I see, sir."

"Hurry your ass up, Sergeant," Royce broke in, breaking the strict protocol that forbade breakage of transferring tactical data. "I don't like being in the open."

__(Unneeded chatter.) __"Clear the channel." 098 ordered the ODST Captain, Royce letting out a sigh but ceasing to persist.

"Sir," Walker reported in over the radio "I'm at the bottom of the ramp and inside the structure. No Covenant forces spotted, and I think I've found what looks like the terminal for the ramp."

"Have you got access to it?" 098 asked.

"Affirmative, sir." Walker confirmed.

"I'll move down the hard light ramp," 098 announced, turning to face the ODSTs and scientists behind him. "_Don't_ follow me."

"But we've _already_ confirmed that the Covies don't have access to the ramp's controls." Moore protested, confused.

"Possibility of trap: moderate." 098 clarified.

"I see."

"Do not to follow me." 098 reinforced his order, turning and beginning his traversal down the ramp, slinging his DMR over his back and subsequently grabbing and raising his M7S once he heard the sound of the DMR connecting to the magnet on his back.

098 moved slow enough down the ramp that the Covenant would have time to initiate their trap – if there were one – but fast enough so that he might make it if the hard light ramp _was_ deactivated. Wondering how the Covenant could monitor the ramp's hallway, 098 examined his surroundings, seeing that once the ramp entered the structure there was no way anyone could observe the corridor. A wall flanked the corridor on each side, the only opening to the hallway being in front and behind.

__(Possibility of trap, lowering.) __"Rally on my position," 098 told the team, arriving at the bottom of the ramp. "But for precaution, move ASAP."

"On it." 098 heard Royce and Woods reply in unison.

098 quickly holstered his M7S on his thigh, grabbing his DMR off of his back to survey the area.

098 had never seen anything like he saw now. There were no corridors; the entire installation was open. Since it was open, 098 could see various ONI equipment surrounding the interior of the structure; towering lamps, terminals hooked up to the alien terminals, crates with supplies, and – after little searching – the large terminal that housed the data they were looking for.

Near the terminal, was an energy turbine which was directly below the large circular opening that was believed to be the primary entrance to the structure. Around the energy turbine, there were large anti-gravity wells that had massive cylinder pillars levitating above them. There was also multiple levels of balconies in the structure's interior which would prove as good sniper points for both the team and Covenant soldiers. The walls of the structure were odd, as well; the walls moving and shifting – 098 could see through the gaps the walls made while moving and behind it were more moving walls, all coiling together to prevent 098 from seeing the actual inside if the structure's walls.

The inner architecture of the installation was the same as the outer – with straight, patterned engravings and seams in the metal that gave the structure its alien look. _(Doctor Halsey would find personal enjoyment at this location.)_

098 heard Moore, Preynar, Woods, Candraz and Royce arriving at the bottom of the ramp behind him, the two scientists panting, not used to the physical strains of a field operation.

"Here, sir." Moore placed a hand on 098's shoulder to support himself while he quickly regained his breath.

098 heard Royce whistle in astonishment as he fell in beside 098. "These guys know their shit."

"What're these aliens called, eh? Pretty-boys, right?" Candraz asked.

"There's no official name, yet," Moore began explaining, still panting. "But through surveillance of similar locations with Covenant forces located within, we've captured and translated Covenant chatter, and they call these aliens '_Forerunners_'."

"_Forerunners?_" Woods repeated, curious at the name.

"Yeah." Moore confirmed, stretching his arms.

"That may've got some meaning." Candraz said.

"Exactly!" Woods said in a tone that said, _now you've got it!_

"Fall in." 098 ordered, making his way over to another ramp that led to the lower levels.

Royce let out an annoyed grunt, annoying 098 who was becoming tired of the ODST's constant defiance against him.

"Captain-" 098 began but halted when he heard something, quickly signaling for the team to stop, hearing the distant screeches of Jackals.

098 waved for the team to take cover behind some braces surrounding a small, lower evaluated area that the terminal for the ramp was located.

"What is it?" Moore asked 098 as he and the rest of the team hurried for cover, anxiety in his voice. Having never encountered the Covenant before, 098 suspected that fear would arise within him when combat was imminent – but wouldn't have them tamper with the mission.

"Maintain radio silence." 098 ordered, directing the order specifically at Moore but not singling him out, quickly taking cover and slinging his DMR over his back before pulling out his M7S.

Walker took cover to 098's right, Royce sliding in behind, Woods taking cover to the left of 098, and Candraz falling in behind Royce. They all had their M7S in hand. Moore took cover behind Candraz with Preynar doing the same behind Moore. Both Moore and Preynar had an M6C/SOCOM in their hands – albeit, Moore's hands were trembling with fear.

The cover, they were in, didn't provide a proper amount of maneuverability, but if they ambushed the Covenant correctly and efficiently, the latter need would become irrelevant. The cover did, however, hide the team, so the Covenant would have to walk _behind_ the braces to be able to see them.

Walker did the hand signal that stood for Covenant, asking 098 if there were Covenant forces nearby. 098 merely nodded in reply, not risking further movement.

__(Intel collection is mandatory.) __098 tapped the side of his helmet, telling the ODSTs to turn on their inbuilt translators. Walker nodded in reply and passed the signal on to Candraz and Royce while 098 then turned and did the same with Woods, tapping the side of his helmet and indicating for Woods to pass the message on.

It was difficult to communicate without the use of coordination through the COM. They couldn't use the COM, though, because the Covenant had sensors that intercepted the radio signals. So, when the COM wasn't an option, hand signals would become vital for issuing orders.

There was the distant screeching of Jackals and chattering of Grunts. The Covenant were getting closer. _(___Negative visual.)___ 0_98 pulled a tiny camera linked to his and the ODST's HUD from his pouch, activated it and placed it just up on the top of the brace. He then tapped the side of his helmet, silently asking Walker if he had any feed – for which Walker nodded in reply, turning to check if Candraz and Royce's feed was working while 098 turned to check with Woods.

Woods nodded as soon as 098 turned around, already anticipating what the SPARTAN was about to do.

The feed was located on the bottom left corner of 098's HUD, but 098 could increase its size through blinking his eyes several times while having them directed at the feed, having it increase in size.

What 098 saw didn't faze him. _(Twelve___ Grunts. Class: Special Operations, various ranks. Five Jackals. Class: Special Operations, various ranks. Two Elites. Class: Special Operations.)__

To prevent the risk of the ODSTs and scientists engaging the same targets, 098 used the feed to mark each target and selected which person would engage which target. To make sure they all knew their targets, 098 tapped the side of his helmet, doing a hand signal as well.

Walker nodded, turning to check with Candraz and Royce while 098 turned and saw Woods immediately nod, not having the patience to wait for 098's question..

With everyone's targets confirmed, 098 did the signal to ask Woods if he were ready to attack – which he confirmed with a nod. 098 then turned around and did the same thing with Walker before signaling for him to send the message around.

On the camera, the Covenant soldiers were directly on the other side of the braces, just a few meters away.

"Whose new brother that was on Phantom?" One of the Grunt asked, its squeaky voice coming through 098's interior speakers. The amount of trouble Grunts put 098 through didn't justify the squeaky voice ONI decided to use for their translation voice. It was probably a military propaganda tactic, but it made soldiers underestimate the Grunts.

"Babaloh? He is a replacement for Dabap." A second Grunt answered, its voice also high-pitched.

"I notice Dabap missing. What happen to him?" The first Grunt asked.

"Oh, they say he somehow got poisoned from food nipple." The second Grunt explained.

098 heard what sounded like someone trying not to laugh over the COM.

"What was that?" An Elite barked, growling slightly afterward.

_(___Possibility of exposure rising.)__

"What is it, brother?" The second Elite of the Lance asked.

098 took out an EMP grenade, holding up two fingers, saying that he needed two more. Walker nodded, taking one out and signaling for Royce to do the same.

"Something's... __not___ right..._" The first Elite slowly said, its suspicion rising as the Royce got out his EMP grenade.

"Engage." 098 ordered over the COM, all rising out of cover behind the braces in unison, 098, Royce and Walker throwing their EMP grenades at the group.

The Covenant soldiers didn't even get time to react before the grenades went off and bought down the Elite's energy shields and the Jackal's personal defense gauntlets.

098 began firing his M7S as soon as the EMP grenade left his hand, the ODSTs and scientists engaging as well, the muffled gunfire filling 098's ears and the suppressed muzzle flashed catching his eye. Nothing diverted his attention.

098 targeted the Elites, knowing that he would take them down with two rounds. Both of the Elites' heads split open with blood and brain matter splattering everywhere once the bullets slammed into their heads, the FMJ rounds working as efficiently as they ever did for the SPARTAN.

Two shots and two of the deadliest warriors in the galaxy where dead.

098 then turned his attention to the Grunts and Jackals.

Along with the ODSTs and scientists fire support, the Covenant scouting team was downed before they could even react to what was happening. No screeching or barking from Grunts and Jackals alerting any of the other possible Covenant scouting units. All that did sound off was the soft bangs of the EMP grenades going off followed by the grunts and gurgles of a few Jackals and Grunts as they were whittled with bullets.

"Confirm elimination." 098 ordered the team, moving out from behind cover, grabbing the tiny camera as he moved and pocketed it in the appropriate pouch.

"Can we talk _now?_" Woods asked, a mocking ring in his tone – that 098 did not approve.

098 simply didn't reply. He knew that he was joking since the ODSTs were trained to know immediately when to maintain radio silence and when they could lift it. The fact 098 told them earlier was because he didn't trust them to not act without his reinforcement of the correct procedure.

Reloading his M7S, 098 switched it to semi-automatic before he began sending a round into the heads' of each downed Covenant soldier to make sure the kills were confirmed.

"You didn't answer my question." Woods muttered, emptying his clip into the heads of some Grunts, nudging them playfully with his boot.

__(Unneeded chatter.) __"_Clear_ the channel." 098 ordered Woods, increasing the aggression in his voice to make sure Woods understood that he was _pissing_ the SPARTAN off.

"Sir," Walker broke in urgently. "More Covenant soldiers heading down the ramp we just came down."

098 snapped around, hurrying towards the terminal "Do you have positive visual on the targets?" 098 asked Walker, speeding up and entering a sprint.

"Negative, sir," Walker replied, falling in with 098. "But I'm positive that it's the same type of Lance that we just encountered."

Arriving at the terminal, 098 examined it over. It was holographic and was emitting from some type power core in the holotank that was surrounded by the Forerunner metal.

"Here." Walker pressed one of the holographic buttons, the sounds of Grunts, Jackals, and Elites screeching, roaring and shrieking in the distance confirming that the ODST had pressed the correct button.

Walker tapped 098's shoulder, pressing the button again, reactivating the ramp for when they needed to EXFIL. Giving Walker a nod of approval, 098 began making his way back over to the rest of the team, Walker hurrying up behind him. "Are all the targets eliminated?" 098 asked.

"Yes, sir." Moore replied, his voice shaking.

__(First combat engagement. Possible post-traumatic stress disorder.) __"Vintage four, status?" 098 put a hand on the scientist's shoulder to get his attention.

Moore turned his attention to 098, tilting his head. "Green, sir."

__(Negative.)__ 098 shook his head, repeating his question. "Vintage four, give me an immediate sit-rep on your status – absent deviation." 098 added more authority to his voice, visibly intimidating the young ONI scientist.

Moore let out a sigh "I'm just a little _shaken, _Sierra. I'll last – don't worry."

Satisfied with the answer, 098 released his grip on the scientist's shoulder, turning around to address the team as a whole. "I'll take point. Vintage two, you'll take up the rear."

The team was a two levels above the ground level of the structure, and the ramp to the level before the central level was close. All they had to do was cross the next level, and they would arrive at the level with the terminal on it.

"Eh, Why didn't Wangy dang or Claddy warn us 'bout those Covies comin' down da ramp?" Candraz asked, aggression masking her tone.

"Are you daft?" Preynar asked Candraz. "I assume you're taking the piss, right?

"Wah?" Candraz took a step towards Preynar, flexing the M7S in her grip, trying – but failing – to intimidate the ONI scientist.

"You know that long-range COM chatter's dangerous!" Preynar snapped; his patience lost. "Best-of-the-fucking-best my ass!"

Before Woods or Royce could protest, 098 signaled for the team to halt, hearing distant Jackal screeches.

The ODSTs and scientists would be unable to pick up any distant sounds – unlike 098 whose augmentations and armor systems enhanced his hearing abilities and sound detection. A SPARTAN was a vital asset on an operation such as this, and everyone – even the defiant ODSTs – knew to listen carefully when 098 signaled so.

At the moment, 098 would be able to eliminate the Covenant better on his own – that, and he had his doubts on whether he could rely on the ODSTs. These facts handed in; 098 held his hand up, giving the signal that said, _I'm going to scout the area._

"_Are you crazy?_" Woods asked, more loudly than what would be preferable. His voice must have been heard; Elite and Grunt barks were being filtered through 098's helmet – they heard Woods.

Annoyed, 098 slowly approached Woods._ (___Vintage five inflicting negating effects on the mission).__ 098 grabbed Wood's shoulder, doing the hand signal that told him to maintain radio silence.

The Covenant chatter was getting more frequent and louder – which meant that the Covenant _definitely_ knew something was up. Knowing that he needed to act quickly, 098 snapped around and rushed towards the ramp leading down to the level above the main level.

"Sierra?!" Royce asked over the COM. "What the fuck are you doin'?!"

"_Maintain_ radio silence and _stay_ in your current position – I will eliminate the targets." 098 said as he began quickly sprinting down the hard light ramp whilst getting out a stun and EMP grenade while he ran, the distant barks of panicked Grunt getting louder.

__(Panicked sounds consist of twelve Grunts, four Jackals, and an Elite trying to calm them down. Likely same type of team as the previous two.)__

Reaching the bottom of the ramp, 098 saw that he was right. Twelve Grunts, five Jackals and two Elites – one of which was a Zealot – snapped their attention to the ramp 098 was sprinting down when a Grunt barked and pointed out the SPARTAN.

098 tossed both of the grenades into the crowd of Covenant soldiers, drawing his M6D Magnum and waiting for the grenades to detonate.

__(Analyzing possible engagement paths... done.) __The grenades detonated just as 098 finished working out his attack pattern, the Elites' shields disrupting along with the Jackals' point defense gauntlets.

Both of the Elites grabbed their energy swords off of their hip – running on battery meant that EMP grenades were ineffective in disabling energy swords – flinging their arms into the air and snapping them down. The quick movement activated the two ionize blades of the sword, hot, sizzling rouge energy zapping around the blade. Both of the Elites roared challenge at 098 before breaking into a charge at him.

098 raised his pistol, firing off a round that, as he suspected, the Elites immediately dodged to the side of, avoiding the round's path. It was a typical strategy with an easy workaround. 098 instead aimed and fired a round before quickly snapping his aim to where one of the Elites – the Zealot – had dodged, firing a single shot just as the alien realized what had happened.

The round pierced the Zealot's throat, its forward movement making the shot send it flying back to the ground, purple blood oozing out of its mouth and flooding between its four mandibles that trembled in shock, more blood squirting from the Zealot's throat.

The gurgles of its dying comrade brought a roar of anger from the other Special Operations Elite, making it increase its sprint.

098 holstered his magnum and dodged to the right just as the Elite got within physical contact, the Elite swinging its sword in the direction that 098 dodged – which 098 avoided as well – before back stepping. The Elite peered its head slightly towards the rest of its Lance, letting out roar to get its comrades moving. Being among some of the best, the Grunts and Jackals regained their composure, charging into the fray.

Grabbing his pistol with his left thigh again and raising it, 098 managed to place a single well-placed shot into the heads' of a Jackal and Grunt before he had to dodge again as the Elite swung towards him, leaping back when it missed its foe.

The Elite roared in frustration as it charged again. But this time, 098 leaped _right_ _over_ the Elite and landed a few feet behind it. Confusing the Elite, it didn't snap around fast enough or dodge out-of-the-way before 098 fired a single round from his M6D. The bullet went straight through the rear of the Elite's head, sending blood and brain flying out with the round through the exit wound on the front of the Elite's head.

With his back to the rest of the Lance, 098 snapped around, weapon raised, and began placing headshots on the aliens as they began fleeing, distraught over the death of their leaders. Regardless, ten well-placed headshots neutralized what remained of the Lance, not even an effort put against him.

_(All targets neutralized.) _"Proceed to my position." 098 ordered the team, reloading his M6D, grabbing the spent clip from falling to the ground before placing it in his empty clip pouch.

"_What ___the hell happened?__" Royce asked over the COM, annoyed at 098's taking of the reigns – ODSTs didn't like missing out on combat.

"Firefight between Covenant Special Operations scouting Lance." 098 elaborated, knowing that he was explaining the obvious – but indulging the ODST nonetheless.

Royce let out a sigh. "_No, __why _did you engage without backup? You went in blind, Sierra – damn it."

__(Engaging in elaboration.) __"The objective of this operation is for the scientists to reach the designated terminal alive. Any risk of naturalization is to be avoided – orders by CENTCOM." 098 explained, holstering his M6D and pulling his DMR off of his back, assessing the area.

"Nice job." Walker patted 098's shoulder as they continued down to the next hard light ramp – which was close by –continuing to the final level without any more confrontations.

"Sierra, terminal's just over there." Moore pointed out once they reached the main floor, falling in beside 098 who had taken point.

"We're open for engagement," 098 reminded the team, scouring the area for any possible Jackal snipers. "Proceed with caution.

Woods scoffed. "If there were any Covies left, they'd already take us out... thanks to you."

"__Him?__" Preynar snapped, turning around to face the ODST. "_You're_ the one who broke radio silence – alerting _every_ damn Covenant soldier in this structure of our presence! Don't pin this on the SPARTAN, you fucking twat!"

Moore rushed ahead to the terminal, wanting to get the data and complete the mission so they could leave. The mission had gotten to everyone – 098 saw it, and he didn't like the chances of a successful EXFIL.

"More, hold up!" Preynar went after Moore.

"_Fucking Spooks!_" Royce yelled after the both of them, breaking the silence he had so far kept. 098 knew since before they were deployed that Royce's anxiety was sky-rocketing. The fact that he was on a high-risk operation, the lack of his Company, the rate at which the planet fell; all of it fed into his anxiety, and it seemed he had suddenly cracked.

__(Aggression levels are rising.)__ 098 turned around to address the ODST, letting as much authority as he could muster enter his tone. "Cease your aggression."

"Fuck you, _fucking ___psycho!__" Royce snapped back.

"Cease your aggression – or I _will_ be forced to retain you physically," 098 cautioned Royce, taking a step towards the ODST, ready to act if his hostility continued.

"Sir, _please_, just _listen_ to him." Walker place a hand on Royce's shoulder, gripping his M7S tightly in case anything happened – 098 guessed Walker would assist him and not his superior, but the message Walker was sending was vague.

"Yeah, yeah, _okay._" Royce said, taking in long, sharp breaths.

__(Mental stress. ____Status update mandatory.) __"Vintage two, Status?" 098 questioned Royce.

"I'm all right." He aggressively shot back.

"Negative." 098 shook his head, repeating his question. "Vintage two, an immediate sit-rep is mandatory-"

"__Just___ leave me the fuck alone._" Royce snapped, getting more agitated and increasing his breathing – almost purposely just to make a point to 098. He was acting juvenile, and 098 wouldn't stand it.

"Your mental status is vital to the success of this operation. _Give me an immediate sit-rep_." 098 all but refrained from grabbing Royce by the shoulders.

"FINE!" Royce yelled defiantly. "I'm _not_ green! I'm _not _fine! I just want to get the fuck out of this fucking place – _SO ___HURRY THE FUCK UP!__"

__(Positive mental stress.)__

"Just Hang on!" Moore yelled back, typing in the encryption codes to retrieve the data.

"Captain?" Walker placed his other hand on Royce's shoulder, steadying the ODST, who looked as if he were about to collapse.

"I just want... want to get out of here." Royce steadied his breathing, calming himself down.

098 bought his DMR to bear when an electronic sound echoed through the structure, surveying the area for the source of the sound.

"There." Woods pointed to the source, 098 quickly spotting what it was. The two dozen tubes running vertical along the circular base of the turbine were all emitting a blue energy which met up in the middle of the turbine and formed a massive blue energy ball, electric static flaming around the ball.

"What's _this?" _Moore asked, walking towards the edge of the energy turbine, eyes fixed on the blue ball of energy. As he examined it with Preynar joining, 098 and the ODSTs rushed over, staying further away from the edge than the scientists had.

"You got the data?" Royce asked, getting agitated again.

"Yeah..." Moore replied, distracted by the massive ball of energy.

"Then let's get the _fuck _out of here!" Royce said, turning to head back to the hard light ramp that the team had just came down a few minutes earlier, stopping and snapping back around when he realized that no one was following him.

"Hang on, Captain – we're just recording this real quick, so hold your pants." Preynar said, pulling out a data pad from the pocket of his pitch-black fatigues.

"You think those scouts were the __only __Covies here?" Woods asked, adding. "We _need_ to leave right _now_, spooky boy!"

"Affirmative," 098 agreed. "We need to EXFIL for EVAC."

"We only need a moment." Moore ignored their pleas, pulling out his own data pad.

"_Fucking hell,_" Royce growled, approaching the scientists. 098 hurried after him and got ready to engage Royce if he attacked the scientists. "_Listen, _dipshit!" Royce snapped at the scientists, grabbing Moore by the collar of his fatigue. "We've got a mission to carry out! We've got ourselves a __PROTOCOL! __We're leaving, _now!_ You told _us _that we're _all_ to obey the SPARTAN – _SO OBEY HIM!_," Royce pointed at 098. "Now fall in.. or I _will_ take that fucking data from you and leave _my-fucking-self!_"

"Fine." Preynar said, defeated, putting his data pad back into his fatigues pocket, waving for Royce to let Moore go.

"But, sir-"

Preynar snapped Moore a look before he could protest. "They're right, Moore, we need to leave as soon as possible."

Moore let out a sigh but put away his data pad without any further protest.

098 waved for everyone to regroup. "I'll take point. Vintage two," 098 turned to Royce. "You'll take up the rear."

"Sir," Preynar came up beside 098. "I apologize for back there; you're in command of this mission, and I'm meant to follow your orders-"

"Irrelevant," 098 interrupted. "Let's-" 098 spun to the sound of a scream, raising his weapon when he saw Candraz floating just off the ground, blood pouring from two, close holes in her chest.

__(Elite, optical camouflage activated.) __"Engage!" 098 ordered, pulling out his M6D.

"_OH, ___FUCK NO!__" Royce exclaimed.

The Elite deactivated its camouflage, revealing itself to be a Zealot. Its armor was red with radiant blue lights emitting from trimmings and engravings of the same color.

Its mandibles divided into four as it roared in challenge, pulling Candraz from its blade and throwing her over to the group in an attempt to intimidate them.

"_YOU ___DARE __DESECRATE THIS HOLY PLACE?!" The Zealot hissed, breaking into a charge towards the group.

098 opened fire, but with the Zealot's powerful shields, the rounds were deflected from it, its shields barely dropping an inch. The ODSTs joined their fire with 098's, but the rounds from the M7S were in no way effective against the Zealot's shields – no surprise to 098, but an inconvenience.

098 dodged to his left flank as the Zealot got close to him, sliding across the ground but controlling his momentum steadily. Knowing that his M6D wouldn't succeed in eliminating it, 098 holstered the magnum and charged at the Zealot.

"Engaging in physical combat." 098 informed the team over the COM, breaking into the fastest sprint he could, moving faster than even the Zealot anticipated. Ignoring 098's speed, the Zealot lunged at 098 once he got close, bringing its blade into the air and slicing it down towards 098. Sliding to the side of the Zealot, 098 grabbed the armed hand of the Zealot, trying to pry its hand open and steal its blade, dodging the swipes the Zealot was flinging at 098 with its other, free hand.

"YOU _DARE_ LAY YOUR DISEASED HANDS ON __ME___?!_" The Zealot roared. 098 gave up on trying to steal the blade and tackling the Zealot. He instead knocked its arms aside, wrapping his arms around its waist, using his left arm to hold back the Zealot's right, armed arm.

Even with 098 weighing half a ton, he couldn't tackle the Zealot off of its feet.

"UNHAND ME, _DEMON!_" The Zealot hissed. It then grabbed 098 by his right shoulder – its right, armed hand being held back by 098 – and began pushing its enemy off of it. It was concurrently trying to bring its right arm around to slice at 098.

Since 098 was in the way, the ODSTs couldn't get an aim on the Zealot. So Royce ran up to the tackling duo, attempting to get a better angle. The Zealot, however, saw this and kicked Royce as he passed them.

Royce went flying in the air, making 098 worry that he would fly directly over the edge of the platform they were on and into energy turbine. Fortunately, the ODST landed a few feet away from the edge. After hitting the ground, Royce flipped onto his back, holding his chest and trying to get up onto his feet, but stumbling over, applying a lot of pressure to his chest. _(Possible internal damage.)_

"Captain!" Woods exclaimed, running to Royce's aid.

098 tried to turn around, attempting to get the Zealot's back to face the ODSTs – but the Zealot wouldn't budge. 098 realized that nothing would work against the massive Elite.

__(Possibility of my elimination, rising. Emergency action required.) __098 put all his strength into preventing the Zealot from pushing him off of it. If it did manage to get 098 off of it, 098 would be dead soon after, having released his grip on the Zealot's right arm, allowing it to swing it around.

098 knew his efforts weren't working, and released his grab of the Zealot and quickly dodged to the side before the Zealot could swipe at him with its blade. As soon as 098 was clear, the ODSTs and scientists opened fired on the massive Elite.

The Zealot hissed as it leaped for cover behind a bulky pillar that supported the structure, the rounds doing nothing but send ripples along its shields.

"Where's its team?!" Walker asked, reloading his M7S.

"Irrelevant, eliminated current target," 098 told Walker before pulling his DMR off of his back and slowly approaching the pillar the Zealot had taken cover behind. 098 got ready to pull an EMP grenade off of his belt but backed up when the Zealot leapt out from behind the pillar and charged at 098. Having no time to react, 098 could only try his best to dodge the Zealot's next swipe. He but failed, the Zealot landing a large cut diagonally across 098's torso, steam hissing from the compromised part of his armor.

Pain went through 098's body – mainly his torso, however. _(___Physical damage detected. Possibility of elimination rising to near maximum levels.)__

SPARTAN Red-098 knew what he had to do. He slung his DMR over his back and charged the Zealot again – the Zealot returning the favor and charging 098 as well, bringing its blade to bear.

"_SIR!_" Walker exclaimed.

"Disengage and get to the EVAC zone," 098 ordered them, dodging the Zealot's swing before making a grab for the right hand of the Zealot in an attempt to rip the blade out of its hands, again. The Zealot predicted this, though, and it kicked 098 back a few feet when he went to grab the hilt

"So predictable." The Zealot jeered as it charged the SPARTAN again.

This time, 098 dodged the swinging blade before lunging into the Zealot. With the force of the impact, the Zealot lost its footing for a couple of seconds. This aforementioned factor allowed 098 the time he needed to grab the Zealot around the waist again and push it back towards the edge of the energy turbine that the platform they were on surrounded.

The Zealot seemed to know 098's intentions. "You _assume_ death fears me, _Demon? _If I were to die, its matter would hold little significance. I walk the blessed path, and salvation will come to me – _even_ in death, and you will die of a cause by me. The Prophets will sing of my deeds as the Great Journey _commences!_"

The Zealot relaxed, letting the 098 tackle it over the edge. By the time 098 realized what the Elite was planning, it was too late. 098 attempted to break off of the grab, but the Zealot wrapped its arms around 098 in return, letting its blade drop to the ground and holding 098 close to it.

They both fell over the edge of the platform, but 098 knew that he succeeded in his objective when he saw the ODSTs and scientists running up one of the ramps that led out of the structure._  
><em>

"What?" The Zealot said as they began to float _upwards _instead of falling down into the depths of the structure. 098 reacted as well, looking up and seeing that they were being pulled _towards_ the energy ball. They were in the energy ball's gravitational pull. It didn't matter – the energy ball was sending energy spikes all across 098's systems, making his armor power down. These were caused only by the static electricity around the ball – touching the ball itself would more than likely kill them both.

But it didn't happen. As they got closer to the ball, 098 wondered why they hadn't died already when out of nowhere, the gravity pull increased, and they were sucked towards the ball instantly.

Everything went black as 098's HUD went offline, but everything went blue soon afterward... sky blue. 098 realized his HUD was back online, and that he must have been looking at the sky. Mountain outlines began appearing out of the corner of 098's vision. _(___I'm falling.)__

098 quickly looked around to see another energy ball – possibly the same – surrounded by a floating archway with the same architecture as the structure. He turned his head to the left, spotting distant mountains, trees, the Zealot flying through the air as well, and a large line in the sky. _(___That's not a line.) __098 quickly realized that he _somehow_ _wasn't_ on a planet.

The Zealot let out a victorious roar before abruptly stopping, a _thumping _sound being heard at the same moment the Elite stopped roaring. 098 was going to turn to see what happened when he slammed into the ground.

The impact of hitting the ground shook 098's body – but the impact was thankfully absorbed by his armor's hydrostatic gel, breaking his fall and preventing it from breaking _him._

098 quickly kicked-up to his feet, pulling his DMR off of his back to defend himself against the Zealot – that he assumed was charging him. The Zealot was, instead, lying on the ground – not moving with every limb of its body being dislocated, bones even protruding between the Elite's armor gaps.

098 looked up. If his assumption of the energy ball being some type of portal was true, then the two of them must have fallen from a pretty high locale. So high, 098 considered himself lucky to had survived.

To be sure that the Zealot was dead, 098 spent one round into its head, sending a spray of purple blood into the air before turning and surveying his surroundings.

Wherever the SPARTAN was, it wasn't a planet. The ring-like world 098 was on definitely related in some way to the so-called "Forerunners". The relation was made from the floating towers in the distance with architect just like the structure on Quaint. Engravings with blue like radiating from the structure along with other geometry markings that was probably a work of art for the race that created them.

There were alien birds flying in the air. Distant valleys that were full of trees and lakes. Herds of animals roaming across a distant plain. Massive floating towers on the top of distant mountains that were shooting a pulse of blue energy into the sky every ten seconds and alien structures and facilities surrounding the terrain as far as 098 could see. But the most unusual thing was what 098 saw when he looked up. Distant oceans and continents filled the sky, bordered by two lines that circled vertically across the sky, forming what 098 could only guess to be some type of ring-world.

098 knew that wherever he was, he was no longer in UNSC space.

098 proceeded to look up, examining the supposed portal. If it were a portal, then the way that 098 and the Zealot came through it was wasn't the _correct _way. There had to be some way to reach the energy ball. But, there was no way 098 could see, and he needed to move. If it was a portal, Covenant forces were probably going to follow after him – if they were stupid enough to go into the ball of energy without first confirming its origins.

Swinging his DRM over his back, 098 began walking in the direction that the nearest tower was in, hoping to find a way off the ring-world.


	3. The Diverted

****(Red-098)****

****[Date]********-********[November 4, 2547]****

****[Time]********-********[1039 Hours – Standard Military Time]****

****[Location]********-********[On Unknown Ring-Shaped World]****

* * *

><p>Approximately two hours had passed since 098 and the Elite Zealot fell through the crackling blue sphere that 098 believed to be some type of portal. The Elite was dead, but 098 wasn't, and he intended the aforementioned fact about his fate to remain present for as long as possible. Of course, it would take more than a fall to kill a SPARTAN, so 098 wasn't skipping around like joyful Grunt – surveillance had revealed that Grunts expressed emotions like little princesses at times.<p>

098 wouldn't have skipped around – he still had the cut wound on his chest, courtesy of the Zealot. But even without the injury, expressing physical emotions went against both the regulations set by 098 himself, and those set by Mendez.

Two hours wasn't what 098 originally estimated to be the time it would take for him to reach the floating Forerunner tower. It didn't help that about three packs of indigenous predators ambushed him respectively. They all fell quickly, but 098's wound was protesting more than an animal welfare committee.

098 thought back on it and realized that the predators were the only extraterrestrial lifeforms other than the Covenant to have ever attacked him. Even the massive Guta on Reach knew to keep their distance during SPARTAN training exercises. They became more of a problem when Mendez started sending the SPARTANs up against the hulking beasts.

098's destination, the hovering tower atop a broad, smoothly curved anti-gravity base, became more distinguishable as he got closer; its features more evident.

The architecture of the structure was similar to that of the massive structure he was in back on Quaint. Seams evenly lined substantial points of the tower's architect, extensive engravings went along the exterior of the tower, and braces and archways surrounding every retracting or protruding section. The top of the anti-gravity well was surrounded by a massive, decorative, curved border with blue pulses of light speeding around the border without any source of connection with the boundary.

Surrounding the well was a near-visible compound with a number of buildings. The exact features couldn't be determined by 098 as a tall perimeter wall surrounded the compound and tower base, wide rectangular towers at each intersecting corner. 098 could only make out these small details through zooming his visor to its maximum range. And even then, the distance hampered his efforts to examine the compound adequately. However, 098 swore he saw movement in the tower, but he couldn't be sure.

The movement was probably more of the hovering Synthetics that 098 encountered earlier. Two approached him as he was traversing down a cliff-side, examining him with their two "arms" twitching as the blue light from their center eye grew in intensity to single some happening. They didn't stay around long before speeding off back to the same tower that was 098's destination.

Since he was heading to the tower, 098 wasn't going to wait around for any outcome to the two Synthetics' evaluation of him, and kept moving. They were faster than he was, and 098 had little to no doubt that they could find him if they needed to; this was their world, after all.

Traveling to the tower had given 098 a visual treat. He wasn't one to stop and take in the view, but this ring-world had too many alien sights. Fantastic foreign scenes.

Working his way down the cliffs and hills, 098 came across more than a few beautiful views of the terrain. There was the feeling of being on top of the world. Ironically, 098 _had _been on top of worlds before – not in a literal sense.

It wasn't just the view. There was also the wildlife of the world. Alien herds roamed the hills and plains, paying no attention if he had to go across that plain or hill to reach his destination. The young of the herds even played around 098 without their elders worrying. One baby alien even came up and sniffed 098 before bouncing around like a dog, as if asking 098 to play. It eventually ran back off to its mother after 098 ignored it for a long enough, but it was persistent.

There was also a large lake he came across with dozens of different species of alien animals amassing around it to drink and feed on the luscious grass and weed that surrounded the edge of the lake. It was an amazing site. Even predators stopped for a drink and to rest without any of the animals raising an eye in concern. The children from the predator herds even played with those of the herbivores, having fun with those they would hunt and kill years later. The world 098 walked on defied multiple laws of nature.

It was very reminiscent of Reach, when 098 would observe the different animal species interact in near lakes and other points of interest in their undeveloped minds. 098 used to study the behavior, but Linda would often shoot off a round from a sniper rifle to scare the herds back into the forest, effectively annoying the hell out of 098. Mendez also got gradually more irritated when it kept happening, getting increasingly aggressive when none of his men could find out how Linda continued to keep breaking into the armory and stealing a sniper and ammunition for it.

He didn't hear the steps nor did his armor's enhanced sound detection systems pick it up, but 098 heard the all too familiar Elite translated voice come from behind him. "_Demon?_ Turn. But refrain from shooting."

__(Contact confirmed. Engaging.) __Without a second thought, 098 spun around and opened up at the Elite, his DMR booming as its rounds left its barrel, sending the weapon kicking back into 098's armored shoulder. _(Target:___ Elite. Class: Major. Threat Level: Moderate.)__

The rounds bounced off of the Elite's shields as it just stood there, arms crossed while shaking its head. Realizing that his DMR was ineffective against it, 098 sprang to a nearby boulder that was, fortunately, large enough to conceal his entire body from the Elite's return fire that surprisingly didn't appear.

Once in cover, he ejected the empty clip of his DMR, letting it drop to the ground before slamming in another clip. All the while, he was leaning near the edge of the boulder, ready to peer out when the moment was prime.

"Listening before shooting is not a concept possible for your race, hm? That explains a lot," The Elite said as 098 slung his DMR over his back, pulling out his M6D and hoping the pistol would be more practical. Albeit, if the DMR had a hard time, then it was unlikely anything else would work. But there was little more choice in the box for 098 to pick. Continuing as the SPARTAN readied, the Elite said, "As you may have observed, I am not returning your meeting gesture. Yet, you don't wonder-"

Before the Elite could finish, 098 leaned the upper part of his body out of cover, letting his M6D roar his rage. The Elite's hissing of frustration was flooded out by the pistols explosive fire but was heard for a second when 098 leaned back into cover, slamming another clip into his M6D before leaning back out.

It was only a couple of seconds, but the two Synthetics 098 encountered earlier had proven their speed yet again. They flanked the Elite, hovering just above its broad shoulders. A transparent beam was being projected from the center eye of the Synthetics onto the Elite. It created what 098 finally saw as an extra energy shield layer which was fluctuating from the Magnums fire, but showing no signs of failing.

In a change of engagement tactics, 098 shifted his aim to the Synthetics, opening fire on the closest one, the same effects as his fire on the Elite following suite.

Before 098 could finish thinking up a new plan, he froze and not by choice. 098 couldn't move his head, arms, legs, anything, and he slowly tilted over until he fell to the grassy ground. 098's body didn't go limp upon hitting the ground. His armor was possibly in something akin to lockdown. Feeling didn't leave his body, and he could move his limbs and digits a bit with what inch of space the interior of his armor gave him. But the armor couldn't move, and 098 relied on his armor all too much.

"Is he secure?" The Elite asked, its mandibles clicking with barks and growls. The verbal sounds coming from the Elite was all flooded out by the rough sounding translated voice that masked the Elite's natural language with one 098 could understand; English.

In reply, the Synthetic beeped.

"Grand. Now, Demon..." Hearing the Elite kneel next to him, every single instinct of 098's fiber exploded as they attempted to get 098 to move and kill the Elite. So many foreign and alien emotions surged across 098, and he began to worry. _(A repeated progress? There may be another split if such occurs.) _"I am aware of your translation device. And I am aware of your hatred of me," The Elite continued. "But I hate you _more_; after all, Demons lack the capacity to feel emotions, correct? I hate to be the one to say so, but despite our mutual hatred of one another, we require you help. Do not take this as a trap; you would be dead if I desired it so... I do wish your death, but I want another thing of more meaning to me. Also, these Sentinels will protect you over me no matter the circumstances. So only killing you will not be an option. Belay any and all desires you have to end my life. If you don't, you will never leave this ring alive. Sentinel, release the Demon but lock him back up if he persists in killing me."

One of the Synthetics – referred to as a "Sentinel" by the Elite – beeped in reply just as 098's stiff limbs loosened. As soon as he could move his legs and arms, 098 kicked-up to his feet. Once he was stable, he spun around and leaped back in case the Elite just had a thing for taunting its foe – it was not a foreign prospect for their race.

Now surrounded by four "Sentinels", the Elite Major made no move to charge him, and was standing still, looking 098 over. Content that the Elite wasn't going to try anything, 098 holstered his M6D onto his thigh but kept his hand near it in case. It took all of 098's willpower not to charge the Elite and kill it. 098 didn't hate the Elite for its atrocities to Humanity. 098 didn't have the emotional levels required to show hatred. But after the Elite and its race was his adversary for two decades, it was instinctual for 098 to kill them at the first chance he got or the first chance he was given by his superiors.

"Now, time for some irrelevant tests," The Major grumbled. "Nod if you _can _understand me, Demon."

_(Test acknowledged.) _098 nodded, his head being hard to move as his tensed his muscles up to prevent him from acting out without thinking.

The Elite tilted his head. "As I first assumed. Well, this explains a lot. Now, come. I'll take you to my leader. He'll explain things further for you."

Nodding, 098 followed the Major and four Sentinels, keeping his hand close to his holstered M6D. But 098 knew if he had to engage them, he wouldn't stand a chance. That was among one of the reasons he ceased his aggression. If the situation didn't turn out to benefit him, he'd actively look for a chance to take whatever Covenant forces he was about to encounter out.

Another hour got added to the overall time it took 098 to reach the tower from the portal. Nothing eventful happened, and the Major didn't speak much other than sometimes to point at an animal and complain as to how terrible it tasted.

When the six of them – six with the Sentinels – arrived and entered the compound surrounding the anti-gravity well, the screams of terror from fifteen Grunts echoed through 098's interior helmet speakers.

"Shut up!" The Elite Major snapped.

Eleven of the fifteen Grunts obeyed while the other four hurried off towards the large doors leading into the anti-gravity well. The alien doors made an equally alien sound as they hissed open with Grunts flailing their arms in the air while running into the massive structure, screaming their heads off.

"Stupid little bastards," The Major grumbled, turning to make sure 098 was still following him.

The compound was unique; everything alien was unique, hence the "alien" name. However, which came first?

The pathway to the entrance of the anti-gravity well consisted of chiseled stone with thick engravings in patterned formations. The path was clear of any obstruction, and several separate paths leading to the open buildings and bunkers of the compound connected up to the main trail.

The perimeter wall was around the size 098 calculated. It wasn't massive, but it was enough to keep any undesirables out. There was a gateway into the compound that was open for them, but a hardlight shield zapped to life as soon as the six of them entered. The perimeter walls themselves had inbuilt stairways that allowed access to the top of the wall. But there was not a single Covenant patrolling the wall. Instead, each intersecting tower had an Elite guard armed with either a Type-51 Carbine or a Type-50 Sniper Rifle System respectively.

The compound itself was devoid of Covenant. And this _was _a Covenant base, according to the Major's words. It didn't look it; the only signs of Grunts were the ones huddled up in corners, trying their best to ignore 098's very existence. There were Jackals and Elites patrolling the compound, stopping when they neared 098 to give him a dirty look or hissing at him before continuing on their way.

"I don't think you're liked by many," The Major sarcastically observed as the Sentinels broke off to do their own patrols. 098 was curious about how the Sentinels and Covenant were able to work together cooperatively if the Sentinels had no means of communicating with the Covenant. A number of troubling theories came to 098's mind, making that mind even more conflicted. Every instinct in 098's mind was crying out for him to draw his DMR or M6D and start shooting at everything. But, his reason argued against it. In the end, 098 listened to reason and the instincts that sided with rationality.

098 stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his hands into a fist as an Elite Minor approached him and dropped to his knees. "Reclaimer, fate has sent me a purpose in life. My life is yours."

__(Negative understanding. Elaboration required.)__

"Brother, remember the truth? The Journey is false," The Major placed and hand on the Minor's shoulder.

"The Forerunners were not!" The Minor protested. "And though they may not be Gods, they gave us much that advanced our race. I... can't explain reasoning, just that I feel at liberty to repay the Forerunners for their gifts. And the only way, repayment is possible, is through service to their children."

"The Demon is not Human," The Major said.

"That is contrary to what the Oracle said when it picked up his signal earlier! He said he detected a Human!"

The Major waved his hand dismissively. "So be it. Do what you will. But do not halt our meeting with the Ultra any further."

The Minor nodded, getting back up and continuing his patrol. 098 was baffled by what had just happened, but knew better than to ask. He instead took an interest in what the Major called their leader. An Ultra being in charge of a detachment of Covenant soldiers not stationed at a larger base of even an invading point was abnormal. A Zealot or two always commanded scouting or exploration teams.

The Major let out a grunt, beckoning 098 onwards. "Pay no heed to Suras. He is in a bad state of mind," He said as_ t_hey entered the anti-gravity well facility via its point of entry. There was just the one, long, straight corridor which led ahead to a door that was guarded by two Elite Minors. And there were no intersections or junctions; there was just the single passage.

Before they could continue, the screams of the four Grunts that had fled earlier filled the long, wide corridor. 098 was forced to deactivate his translator; the screams were _that_ high-pitched.

With the translator deactivated, 098 couldn't understand the order the Major barked at the Grunts. It was apparent enough to 098 with the sight of the Grunts running back out into the compound, screaming in terror. Once they disappeared from view, 098 switched his translator back on; missing anything from the Major could've been the difference between life and death.

"Believe it or not, but all the Grunts, you have seen, are the best available of the Covenant," The Major shook his head in disbelief. "Whatever happened to the vicious little bastards from the rebellion?"

098 paid no attention to the Major's complaining and instead examined the architecture of the corridor. It was similar to the exterior architect but was more shiny due to its disconnection with the natural elements. There were other differences. The engravings were smaller and thinner, and had glowing blue tracings going through the center of their chiseled slopes, illuminating a light that possibly provided the corridor with light. It was of similar design of the interior of the structure on Quaint.

098 looked up and was further impressed by the tapering ceiling of the corridor. Above both of the doorways of the hallway and projecting two photon beams vertically across the ceiling was two photon beam projectors. There seemed to be a transparent, almost invisible field of energy surrounding the blue rays, keeping them stable. The decorative design was one of the most advanced energy utilized creations possible, and 098 believed it to be a lesser creation of the Forerunners.

"Just up here," The Major said as they approached the door, 098 turning his attention from the ceiling to the door. "Interesting, is it not?" The Major asked, noticing 098's focus change.

"Found a Demon?" One of the Elite Minors guarding the door asked as 098 and the Major halted.

The Major nodded. "The Oracle should've specified it better; I jumped higher than a T'vaoan when I saw it!"

As with the other doors, hissing was present as the doors opened, a ray of light shining through the widening gap of the separating doors, 098's visor adjusting immediately to the light. Civilian vehicles had nothing on military tinting.

"Go ahead," The second Elite Minor gestured for the two of them to continue, giving 098 a dirty look as he did so. Trusting at least one of his instincts, 098 lowered his hand back down to his holstered M6D, enabling him a quick reaction in case he stumbled onto a group of the Elite equivalent to rookie Marines.

"Greetings," A sudden metallic voice said from within the room they were entering. It sounded like voices used by primitive Human AIs. "I am the Monarch."

Confused, 098 remained quiet, opting just to follow the Elite Minor and let things play out. He quickly assessed whether it _would _play out in his favor, observing and determining his surroundings.

Atop an elevated platform connected to the central level by a hardlight ramp was a throne made up of sticks, logs and other items that could classify the throne as "makeshift". Sitting on the throne was an Elite Ultra with two Minors flanking him, both gripping a Type-51 carbine.

To the left of the hardlight ramp was... 098 didn't know what it was. It appeared to be a mainframe of sorts since there were multiple thick tubes and cords coming out from the "mainframe" and connecting up to terminals around the room which projected holographic screens or symbols. In the center of the "mainframe", was a moving, glowing eye that seemed to be watching 098. 098 wasn't quite sure it was a mainframe, but it was the closest comparison he could obtain.

To the right of everything in the room, covering the entire wall, was a massive glass window. It had to be one-way; it was too huge, and 098 would've noticed it while approaching the tower earlier.

"What're you saying to him?" The Ultra addressed what could only be the voice.

The metallic voice replied in the Sangheili language, but 098 translated it as, "Introducing myself."

The voice returned to addressing 098 in English. "Please to not feel threatened by the Sangheili, Reclaimer, for they mean you no harm. And if they did, I am sworn to protect you. But know this: I consider you the bigger threat."

__(Acknowledged. I will refrain from expressing aggression.) __098 solely nodded.

"I suppose you're wondering what I am," The voice continued. "You already know my title, but my function remains oblivious to you. I am the most advanced Forerunner Ancilla – or, Artificial Intelligence – in this universe. My primary function is to assist the Reclaimers – Humanity – to the best of my possibilities. You are a Reclaimer, so I will service you, and will enact on your biddings to the best of my capabilities. I will start by translating your words into the Sangheili equivalent."

"You can understand us, correct?" The Ultra asked, 098 nodding in reply. "That explains many things."

"I know, right?!" The Major agreed.

"Why have you diverted to diplomatic tactics?" 098 asked the Ultra, the Monarch translating what he said almost immediately as his words left his mouth.

"Because your survival is of a mutual benefit," The Ultra began as the door behind hiss open, causing 098 to spin around instinctively. He calmed down when he saw it was just two Sentinels floating in, positioning themselves behind him. "But before I continue, I need you to swear that you will not react violently to what I speak. If you betray your word, you'll be incapacitated by the Sentinels."

"Which in turn, will make me laugh," The Major added.

_(Unneeded concern. Tactical training in emotional field passed as of... Never passed.) _"I'm a soldier, twenty/four seven. And to function like a soldier, you need to put emotions aside. I've exceeded at this fundamental law." 098 explained, the Monarch translating what he said for the Ultra and the other three Elites, its thick metallic voice sounding even more alien once it began speaking in an unknown language.

"Then, I shall waste no more time, and begin," The Ultra stood up from his throne, folding his hands behind his back. "The Covenant – the _false _Covenant – worship a deity race called the Forerunners. I also did, at a time. The principal premise of our religion is that the Forerunners activated the Halo Arrays-" The Ultra gestured around. "-And ascended to the Divine Beyond; a paradise. What follows is an assortment of lies and deceit... or perhaps a misconception..."

The Ultra took a breath. 098 wasn't adept in Covenant research – that belonged to the scientists of ONI – but he could tell the Ultra was experiencing mixed emotions. "Needless theories," The Ultra waved dismissively. "Another prime premise is that to follow in the Forerunners' steps and ascend to Paradise to live by their side for the rest of eternity, you need to follow the Covenant loyally, and for the Halo Arrays to be activated once again. We also believed that those, who follow the Covenant, are the Reclaimers to the Forerunners' entire empire... It was no coincident that the Covenant declared war on the actual Reclaimers, Humanity."

"The San'Shyuum – along with the rest of the Covenant – are _not _the Reclaimers; you Humans are. The Hierarchs, they without a doubt knew this. And they knew that if it became public that Humanity are the Reclaimers, then who would the entire Covenant bow to? Who would the Sangheili follow? The race that subjugated them into a false religion? Or the actual sons' of our Gods?" The Ultra began pacing. 098 saw his chest moving at a rapid pace; it was breathing faster than normal. "They resorted to lying; maintaining control over the Covenant was _that _important to them that enacting on genocide was a viable option. The war against your race wasn't meant to be."

_(The Human-Covenant war is irrelevant and unneeded. Casualty numbers dictate negative reaction. Training dictates no response. The latter is the only choice; it always is.) _098 wasn't shock. He had been trained to kill whoever he was told to kill. Such concerns as the fate of his race wasn't swirling his mind.

"By logical sense," The Ultra continued, halting his pace and slumping back into his seat. "We should be at your service. But the Forerunners aren't Gods, according to the Monarch. They didn't build Halo to ascend to Paradise, but to wipe out _every _living being in the galaxy; a final plan to counter a race of parasites; the Flood. They threatened everything, and no plan other than complete annihilation would defeat them. The universe was apparently re-established through the imprinting of each and every conscious race... all _except _the Forerunners. They foolishly decided to leave another in their stead. Another to guard the universe... Out of all the choices, it was your race."

The Major chuckled in disbelief as the Ultra continued. "Why? Matters not," The Ultra shook his head. "Just that it is so, as the Monarch says..." The Ultra sighed – or did the Sangheili equivalent to a sigh, but it came through as a sigh – as he continued. "The Great Journey is false. All those who walked the _'blessed' _path in hopes of salvation – even in death – will have their beliefs crushed – like us. _Every _Covenant warrior, who have fallen in this holy war, will not be rewarded for their sacrifice; will not see their family again. They will remain in the eternal darkness for all time, without a conscious. They will remain nothing but the essence of the galaxy. They died for nothing."

The Minors to the Ultra's sides hung their heads in shame and sadness. "This revelation came to me courtesy of the Monarch," The Ultra gestured to the "mainframe". "I was a part of a team in service to the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion. We specialized in securing structures and artifacts of Forerunner design when the Zealots of the Ministry of Fervent Intercession could not do so. One such structure I was tasked to secure forty-seven rotations ago on one of your damn planes held the Monarch within its bowels. There, the Monarch told me and my warriors the truth."

"Understandably, the truth was a shocking revelation to me and my warriors. We knew we had to warn our Fleetmaster, Vale Nar 'Sarasee. But when returning from a mission such as the one we were one, protocol and law demanded that we be taken straight to another without exception; the Minister of Reliquary Dominion, the Prophet of Pity. If we came back with the Monarch, we would be all dead to prevent the truth from becoming exposed. We couldn't return with the Monarch anyway," The Ultra pointed to the "mainframe". "As you can see, the Monarch is connected to some type of mainframe it calls, 'the Parisadal'. This meant we couldn't move him."

The Monarch broke in, speaking Sangheili so the others could understand what he was telling me. "I did, withal, inform them of a distinct breed of Sentinels that could remove me from the Parisadal and allow me to utilize the mobile function of my form. Unfortunately, these Sentinels weren't located within my Installation. The reasons are irrelevant at the moment, and is a story within itself. But due to my primary function to assist the Reclaimers, I was connected up to a universal teleportation network to each and every Halo Installation – one of the most technologically advanced creations of the Forerunners. This fabric allowed me to teleport my Parisadal and every sentient being within a ten meter radius to the Parisadal to a designated network facility located on each Halo Installation. And to add a bonus to our already risky plan – that was gradually getting better – one Halo Installation had a Forerunner Dreadnought part of its vehicle assembly."

"The plan was to ultimately teleport to Installation 02, get the assistance from the local Monitor of the Installation, commandeer the Dreadnought and use it to return to Covenant controlled space to assist in ending the conflicts between the Reclaimer, and this Covenant Empire."

"The Ultra could've explained," The Major grumbled.

"Rek," The Ultra quietly scolded the Major before returning his attention back to me, but addressing the Monarch. "We didn't go to Installation 02, did we?"

"No," The Monarch replied in Sangheili. Since it was speaking Sangheili, its words were automatically translated by 098's rendering systems. The Sangheili language was the lingua franca of the Covenant Empire, and a lot of different races that didn't have their language translated at the time spoke Sangheili.

The Monarch continued. "Due to an interference that I have yet to identify, I had to make an emergency diversion of course, changing the destination of my direction vectors to that of the closest Halo Installation. It was either that or be teleported into nothing. I managed to deviate successfully and teleport us all to the designated 'Throne Room' of this Installation that I have yet to identify due to my inability to gain contact with the Monitor for some reason. The lack of contact at this time is unusual. Due to my limited supply of Sentinels, my scouting of this Installation has so far proved to be ineffective. I have only revealed half of the continent we are on during the forty-seven days we have been present here, and my Sentinels cannot access the service and maintenance tunnels to improve their rate of exploration. Exploration should be irrelevant; contact from the Monitor should have been established by now. Odder is the lack of the 'Squires' that should be at this facility."

"You have remarkable skills in self-control," The Ultra observed. "I would have thought it otherwise."

098 cocked his head, curious at the Ultra's observation. "Emotions are a foreign concept to me. But the rest of Humanity will react more negatively to your information and intelligence. Caution is advised."

"Oh, I know they will be," The Ultra said. "But they have inflicted atrocities on us as well. Hatred is not a one-way situation."

"We were on the defensive," 098 reminded the Ultra.

"You were," The Ultra nodded once. "But it makes no difference, Demon. But, conclusively, we have inflicted the worse out of what we have done to each other, and the San'Shyuum will burn for it; _each_ and _every _one of the bastards.

"Brother," One of the Minors interjected. "Not all San'Shyuum may know the truth if any at all This could be a misunderstanding by us."

The Ultra turned to face the Minor at his side, not showing any aggression towards the Minor for his breakage of silence. Covenant discipline could teach SPARTANs a few things. "Remember the Dvene-Ta'is people, brother?" The Ultra asked the Minor, his tone calm, lacking the aggression that should've acted as discipline in the current situation. "They were divided into different political cities – similar to us. And it was only one of those cities that desecrated the Forerunner artifact while the others wanted none other than to keep their distance from anything associated with the Forerunners. The San'Shyuum ordered the glassing of the entire planet, though, Brother. There was no mercy. The San'Shyuum have reduced us to a state where we can't distinguish the innocent from the guilty."

"The Prophets' lies have done much damage to the galaxy," The Elite Major, Rek, added. "It is our duty to redeem ourselves through being the arm of vengeance."

The Ultra nodded in agreement, turning his attention back to me. "Yes. Demon, we've been blinded. But now we can see all. The San'Shyuum will _all _die; no matter who knew, no matter who did what, they will _all _die. But, we need _your_ help."

_(Assistance request acknowledged and assistance will be granted.) _"I'll assist you until I receive orders from my superiors not to. Until contact with UNSC forces is re-established, there is no designated end of assistance."

"So be it," The Ultra nodded once the Monarch finished translating. "Monarch, you may begin your explanation of your plan."

098 turned to face the Monarch's "Parisadal", noticing the eye fixated on him. 098 was cautious, but not intimidated. He saw how intimidation crippled an opponent; the amount of Grunts he had interrogated required a moment of thinking to calculate the numbers. It was one-hundred and six, the last time he checked – which was more than a year ago.

"My knowledge of this Installation's landscape is limited," The Monarch began his explanation. "But I do have short-range sensors that are currently operational. It was with this sensor that I picked up your combat skin's systems along with the activation of a portal, which I assume you came through?"

_(Affirmative. "Came" incorrect term. "Fall" correct term. Marine slang equals, "fell on ass"; term operable.)_"Affirmative," 098 confirmed with a nod, deciding against correcting the Monarch.

"Excellent. What planet is one the other side of the portal? This is essential, Reclaimer, so I need to know."

_(Quaint, Viverz System, the capital planet of the system. Population: one hundred and ninety-five million six hundred and thirty-two – before the invasion. Estimated survival population: time required for calculation essential for other purposes.) _"Quaint," 098 replied.

"Unknown planet," The Monarch mused. "But I'll soon know as one of my Sentinels is approaching the portal now. A visual will soon be established."

"We shall use this portal to return to Covenant space," The Ultra elaborated to 098.

_(Acknowledged. Technically still UNSC space, but the argument is irrelevant.) _

"That may be a bigger problem than I anticipated," The Monarch interjected.

"Why?" the Ultra asked, the sound of his mandibles clicking in worry was hearable from where he sat on his throne.

"Because there is a Covenant scouting team exiting the portal on this side," The Monarch explained.

"Demon," The Ultra cocked his head back around to face 098. "Did you encounter any number of scouting teams on the other side? And was there a Zealot present?"

_(Affirmative. Three; one with confirmed Zealot. Additional Zealot engaged and eliminated. Monarch should have visual on a second Zealot.)_"Affirmative," 098 confirmed with a nod. "Three teams; one with a confirmed Zealot. An additional Zealot was engaged and eliminated."

"I see the aforementioned Zealot. Dangers of my creator's creations," The Monarch remarked, seemingly amused.

"It could just be one of those," The Ultra suggested.

"No. My Sentinel just went through the portal, and there are a lot of Covenant warriors present on the other side. They seem to be erecting a base of operations," The Monarch informed.

"Damn it!" The Ultra snapped, his translated voice showing signs of annoyance and anger.

"Oh, the Covenant are now kneeling before the Sentinel and praying to it," The Monarch said, surprised and amused all at once.

"I pity their blindness," Rek said, sympathetic. 098 could hear Rek clatter his mandibles in what the SPARTAN guessed was sadness.

"Soon. They will see the light soon, brother," The Ultra reassured Rek. "And when they do, their wrath will be infinite and unbounded."

"There's a San'Shyuum with them," The Monarch informed.

The Elite Minors let out roars of anger as the Ultra leaped out of his throne and hurried down the ramp, approaching the Monarch's Parisadal. "Is he near a large Sangheili in gold armor?"

"Yes. There is an exceptionally large Sangheili compared to the others. It has an aura of authority around it; that much is certain," The Monarch confirmed.

"Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee," The Ultra said, musing. "It's the bastard Prophet of Pity."

The Elite Minors and Rek let out roars of anger at the mention of the Prophet's name. 098 judged that there was a personal hatred towards the Prophet; it was the Minister of the Ministry they served under, so perhaps there was a bitter resentment.

"The Prophet of Pity is beginning a prayer," The Monarch informed.

"What is he saying?" The Ultra asked, a slight urgency in his voice.

"Holy Sentinel, warrior of the Gods – the holy Forerunners," The Monarch began. "We – your loyal servants – thank you for gracing us with your presence – one that little of us are worthy of. We also thank the holy Forerunners – our divine Gods – for this gateway to the sacred ring! Soon, the Great Journey will begin. And when it does, all those who walk the blessed path will find salvation – even in death-"

"Stop!" The Ultra put a hand up to stop the Monarch, turning to face 098. "See? Their words are blinding! All reasonable and logical sense abandons you when you listen to their lies!"

"Irrelevant," 098 replied, the Monarch beginning his translation. "The Covenant have taken control of the structure on the other side of the portal. Leaving this ring – designated: Halo – requires an immediate plan of action."

The Ultra nodded in agreement. "Maybe we won't have to return to _High Charity_ to begin the cleansing of the San'Shyuum... If I could secretly meet with the Fleetmaster without Pity's knowing, the Fleetmaster will listen – he sees from the sky, after all. I have a plan," The Ultra approached 098, not getting too close, which was a smart move in 098's exceptionally large book of things that pissed him off. "Demon, will you be alright here while I am absent to commune with the Fleetmaster?"

_(Affirmative. Engagement physical or verbal wise will be minimal to lack thereof.) _"Affirmative," 098 nodded, the Monarch wasn't translating due to his single nod of confirmation.

"My Sentinels will be close by if trouble ensues," The Monarch added.

"Thank you, again, Monarch," The Ultra nodded at the Monarch's Parisadal, turning back around to face Rek. "Major, you'll be in charge while I'm absent. No brother is to go near the Demon. And the Demon himself is to remain in the compound to allow a quick escape when the Fleetmaster comes back with me; he will not come alone, and his guards may act with a serious lack of consideration as to why a Demon is here in the first place."

"Understood, brother," Rek replied, doing the Sangheili salute which consisted of placing his hand on his chest and bowing.

The Ultra nodded, cocking his head to face 098. "Demon, if you wish to leave Halo alive, I recommend you listen to the Monarch and do not do anything foolish or otherwise unintelligible."

098 nodded.

"Good," The Ultra nodded, passing 098. 098 quickly – but calmly – turned around in an effort to counter the Ultra if it intended to attack his back. He only saw the Ultra go up to a nearby slab against the right bordering wall of the entrance to the room, the slab being used as a weapons bench with an assortment of Covenant weapons on it. The Ultra picked up a Type-25 directed energy rifle and holstered it on his right thigh, taking a Type-51 carbine and slinging it over his back before turning back around to face everyone.

"Brothers, vengeance is nigh. Urse, Anve, you're with me. The rest of you are to keep the peace," The Ultra crossed his arms in conclusion before turning around and leaving the room. The doors hissed open, and the two Sentinels, Minors, Rek and 098 followed him out of the room.

098 tried his best to process what he had just heard, and a lot of it would make Humanity hate the Elites. But it didn't matter at the moment; 098 was eagerly awaiting leaving Halo. But, 098's mind was full of disturbing thoughts that the whole conceivable idea that the war, he bled so much in, was all for naught.

Something, which disturbed him, was the fact that not four hours ago, he was killing Covenant like it was what he was born to do. Now, he had to restrain his instincts or risk killing every one of the Covenant soldiers near him.

The most disturbing thought was what he witnessed with the Elites. He saw the sadness they had for their dead comrades, the sadness for the fact that they murdered billions over their fake religion. The anger they had for the San'Shyuum, the compassion they had for each other, and the resentment they harbored for 098.

These were Human emotions, and it made 098 very uncomfortable to see those many considered monsters act with emotions that made them so Human.

__(They're more Human than I am. But that's not saying much.)__


	4. First Act of Inconvenience

****(Thel 'Lodamee)****

****[Date]-[November 4, 2547]****

****[Time]********-********[1456 Hours – Standard Military Time]****

****[Location]********-********[Base of Forerunner Portal, Unknown Halo Installation]****

* * *

><p>"Brother, are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Urse 'Vadamee asked, clicking his mandibles in worry for Thel 'Lodamee—his leader, his comrade, his friend.<p>

__(Only so long as the Prophet of Pity doesn't discover me. But what are the chances of that?) __"I will be safer by myself, brother. Trust my judgment." Thel placed a reassuring hand on Urse's shoulder, adding a nod to his endeavor of comforting his comrades. Their stress held a moderate level of justification. But it was tamper risky.

Urse 'Vadamee, along with Anve 'Lodamee, were Thel's most trusted out of his collection of Minors that survived the assault on the Monarch's facility—guarded by an army of Humans. The duo would accompany Thel anywhere, but not this time. Due to their requests, however, they accompanied him close enough to the Covenant base that they would be able to provide supportive fire for Thel's retreat if he needed to battle his way out. Such a warrant should not have been at risk of unfolding; Vale Nar 'Sarasee _would _listen to Thel.

Thel hoped reception for his mind's console would receive favor, and violence wouldn't occur. He hoped that he could avoid the Prophet of Pity and that he made it safely to Vale Nar 'Sarasee. At least, Thel hoped it was Vale. It sounded like the Prophet of Pity, and the Monarch said of a golden armored Elite that was taller than an average Sangheili. There was no doubt.

Vale would listen to Thel—he knew it. Since the Ultra served under his command as much as the Prophet of Pity, they were close to each other. And Vale was a strong, wise leader who agreed that Thel was unfairly punished by the High Council for his failure in killing the Demon, the "Master Chief". If Thel wanted to survive and return home to Sanghelios, he was required to cooperate alongside the comrade of the _same _Demon he almost killed cycles earlier. It was irony at its finest, and Thel didn't like it. _(Such a devastating turn of events. Why should it get any worse?)_

"Here, take this," Thel said as he passed Anve his Type-51 carbine, "Ultras aren't meant to cart such weapons."

"They will notice you anyway with your armor being so unclean," Urse reminded Thel, gesturing to his Ultra armor that was darkened by the grieving of time inflicted. It was unpreventable, but undesirable, all the same

"Then they will take me to the fleet's ground armorer. He is an old friend, and one, I can place much trust in," Thel, reassured his nervous brothers.

"Or the bastard Prophet," Anve stressed, using an ancient gesture that Sangheili warriors who battled against the San'Shyuum before the Covenant once used. It meant _The long-necks will all die_.

_(That wouldn't be so likely.) _"Why?" Thel asked. "He's a Prophet and will have Prophet tasks to tend to. Why would I be sent to him? His suspicions should not be at a peak limit—for our presence remains unknown to him."

"What if he _is _suspecting of a situation akin or exact to this?" Urse asked, increasing in agitation with his mandibles twitching, not being idle as they should be while awaiting an answer to a question. "He would have heard about our disappearance back on the Human planet as sure as the sunlight. He may yet know that his species' bloodied lies are at risk."

__(It's a lesser possibility, but...)__

"No, brother," Anve interjected. "The San'Shyuum are obviously stupid if they had an inkling of a belief that they could conceal _this_ big of a secret."

"Or maybe they are smarter than we theorize," Thel mused, rubbing his mandibles through the bottom of his helmet that remained unconcealed by the armor of the crowned helmet. "They may have a plan to counter our wraith if the truth ever came to light."

"Perhaps the Prophets know not of Humanity's Heritage. Perhaps, our hatred for them is unneeded," Urse suggested, trying to bring apart all the possibilities. It was a trait of his to avoid conflict whenever possible.

_(It matters not. Death will come to their entire race. Three millennia we have done so to those innocent. It's time we avenged them.) _"Whether or not it is true, the San'Shyuum will be burnt to the glass they forced us to create so many times before. Remember my words at the tower?" Thel reminded Urse. "Even if they are oblivious, their sins are so much more far-reaching than simply misconceiving the Forerunners' gifts."

"Conflict or not," Anve concluded, "we'll follow you no matter what path you lead."

"I concur," Urse added.

_(I have no doubt of your loyalty. But we need not dwell on the future.) _"One small step at a time along this new path," Thel said as he rose from his knees, stretching his neck as he added, "I shall take the first step."

"Know that we will always be right behind you, brother," Anve replied with Urse nodding in agreement.

_(Your loyalty reaches deep into me. I need such at this time of hardship.) _"And know that I will _always_ cherish your loyalty—a concept foreign to the Prophets," Thel nodded as prepared himself. He peered out from behind the boulder he and his two comrades behind and readied his body to dash to the rear cliffs which led up behind the Covenant base. The cliffs would serve as his infiltration method.

"Fortune favor you, brother," Urse said as Thel broke out of cover. The Elite skidded from boulder to boulder, the rocky cliff edge he was on providing the perfect cover for him. He hurried to the cliff face that he would have to climb to reach the base without being discovered, keeping low and never straying far from cover.

The portal was the perfect example of Forerunner design. Four appendage like arches protruded from the platform beneath the portal, the arches surrounding the massive blue orb of light with crackling energy radiating around the orb. The platform beneath the portal was an energy turbine being supported by an anti-gravity well that rested on the hill the portal resided above. The hill made the features of the portal visible for Thel as he approached the cliff with Anve and Urse earlier.

A single seam went through the center of the exterior of the arches. A blue pulsing light flowed through the seam and came out of the edges of the arch, emitting rays of light which gave it the portal its power.

Coming away from a platform connected to the energy turbine were various ramps that lead to nearby cliffs and hills, offering the invading Covenant a way to exit the portal safely. By the looks of the Demon's scraped armor, Thel concluded that the Demon didn't take the safest way. He found it amusing—a fault in a creature that seemed so faultless.

Examining the airspace around the portal, Thel saw that the only aerial vehicles leaving the portal were Banshees, Phantoms, and Spirits. The Phantoms and Spirits both respectively carried troops, gravity towers, vehicles, supplies and portal buildings that would soon be set up for the base they intended to manufacture.

The base, so far, had no walls around it—which made infiltration easier. But in lieu of any portable walls, there was instead a startling amount of gravity towers housing Kig-Yar snipers who posed a threat to Thel. Knowing the creatures, Thel figured the chances of him being spotted where low; they were on Halo and weren't expecting any trouble. Most overwatch duties would reside to the sensors that would set off alarms if any creature of a specified size entered the zone. The exceptions were Covenant warriors who all wore armor with transmitters that prevented the sensors from going off if the designated size of a creature the sensors were on the radar for matched the size of a Covenant race.

Thel's armor had such a transmitter, so the sensors posed no problematic situation for him.

Eventually, Thel reached his destination—the cliff face. Without delay, he clutched onto the rocky wall, beginning to climb, knocking stone and dirt down as he clambered up. Sangheili were natural traverses of all terrain; the cliff wouldn't tamper Thel in any way. With his hardened undersuit providing gloves under his gantlet that also served as his armor's arm brace, none of the rocks would slash Thel's hands to shreds.

The climb didn't take long—fifteen moments, at the least. The short time was because the cliff was no more than a hundred units high. In near to no amount of time, Thel was pulling himself over the edge of the cliff. He quickly clambered to his hooves and dusted as much dirt from his armor as he could. The Elite grunted in irritation when he noticed the scrapes and scratches his armor had received from the climb.

Stretching and cracking his neck, Thel quickly fell into an alleyway between two portable buildings that had been set up already, narrowly missing a patrol of three Unggoy being led by a Kig-Yar. Banshees swooped overhead, but they were patrolling the outskirts of the base—not the base itself. Their eyes would not spot Thel.

Peering out of the alleyway, Thel spotted the portable headquarters. He knew what such looked like from the manifest detailing the different portable buildings that all Sangheili commanders of Vale's fleet received. The building before him was what he was looking for—Vale Nar 'Sarasee would be inside _that_ building.

However, outside the building, standing by the massive set of doors was a Sangheili Zealot, observing anyone who passed the building, his eyes sweeping from Sangheili to Unggoy then back again.

There was no mistaking the massive Sangheili anywhere. Thel shuddered at the thought of having to get past Zealot Var 'Lultamee.

Var was a brute of a Sangheili—one of Thel's least favorable among his race. He was aggressive towards every Covenant species other than Sangheili themselves. He showed extreme violence towards Unggoy, doing things that disturbed even Thel. He was also a giant of a Sangheili, reaching just above Vale's height. He was large, and he used that fact to spread intimidation among his subordinates.

Somehow, Thel always felt that a rotation would arise where Var would become a problem. But at such a vital time? No. Thel couldn't accept it. He would approach Var and hope that the Zealot would let Thel speak with the Fleetmaster after having been missing for nearly two segments. If not, Thel would have to become "loud" to garner Vale's attention.

Just when he was about to leave the shadows and make his move, a furry hand grabbed Thel's shoulder and spun him. He was glad a helmet concealed his eyes; the shock of seeing two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras before him made his eyes widen to their limit. _(How? How did I not hear them?!) _Thel's armor's sensor had failed a mere of a segment ago, so anything could have sneaked up on him. But Jiralhanae? Their steps had too much of a weight to them.

"Your armor is too dirty," The first Ultra Captain growled in his strong, loud voice, sending trembles down Thel's back. He didn't fear the creatures—he feared the circumstances.

_(These are of the same rank as me. I must be careful with my words or suffer the consequences.) _"I've been missing a while, brothers. I need to speak with the Fleetmaster—for he'll no doubt wish to hear of my survival," Thel explained with as much respect as he could muster. He didn't hate the Jiralhanae personally—he frowned upon the conflict—but the Captain Ultras among Vale's fleet mainly served the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion—Thel had to be careful.

The Jiralhanae turned their heads to look at each other, the second one barking something that Thel's translator didn't pick up before they both turned back around to face him. "What's your name?" The first one asked.

_(I will not lie. This is a test; they already know who I am.) _"Thel 'Lodamee," Thel truthfully replied. "I was in command of the Twelfth Legion of Reliquary Dominion. We went missing one and a half segments ago. I must speak with Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee immediately."

"Why did you go missing?" The first one questioned Thel.

_(This is something lying can be avoided at.)_ "I must explain the details to the Fleetmaster only," Thel deviated from the question as best he could. To further emphasize his words, he clattered his mandibles loud enough for the two Captain Ultras to hear.

"Tell us!" The second Captain Ultra barked, snarling afterward as he regained his composure. There was no mistake: this one was the defect of the litter.

_(I am well within my rights to refuse to comply. We are of the same rank.) _"_Show some respect!_" Thel coldly snapped his mandibles, the tips of the mandibles brushing along the enclosed space of his helmet.

"Or what?" The second Captain Ultra asked, chuckling at Thel's defiance. Despite Thel's lack of racism, these ones didn't seem to be sharing the gesture. The second one was mocking Thel's sense of honor—something Jiralhanae commonly did to stir up trouble.

"We're agents of the Holy Prophet of Pity, Minister of Reliquary Dominion," The first one interrupted, breaking off his comrade before the situation got more out of hand than it already was. "And if we make demands, we have expectations for compliance.

_(You would strangle Pity if you knew the truth.) _Giving up, Thel wouldn't persist in denying them an answer. "An Oracle teleported me and my surviving warriors to this holy ring."

The Jiralhanae looked at each other, again, before turning back and looking Thel over. "Why did you believe that you should submit this matter to the Fleetmaster?" The first Captain Ultra asked, making Thel's hearts stop. "If you have contacted a holy Oracle, then you should immediately seek out a Prophet above all else."

_(Damn It—no!) _"I wasn't aware that the Prophet of Pity had come through the Holy portal," Thel tried to deceive the two—there was no alternative; he was in a dire present.

The first one shook his head. "Meaningless now. But, you _will _come with us to see the Prophet of Pity immediately."

_(I shan't indulge you—no, I won't be going with you.) _"I'm not worthy of being before the Holy Prophet of Pity," Thel put on a facade. Lying had no meaning to him now. It was more dishonorable to not do everything in your power to ensure your race's continuous survival.

The first one chuckled lightly, gesturing for me to relax. "Do not have fear in your heart. It's profoundly probable that your encounter with the Oracle opened the portal. _You _may of just led us to the _first _holy ring. If this is true, then all will bow in respect before _you_—no one will feel you below them."

There was no getting out of his predicament. Thel had no idea on why his persistence luck had suddenly abandoned him. The present circumstances were the absolute worse that could have happened. "Okay, brother," Thel gave in, knowing he couldn't yell out for Var—the Jiralhanae saw past his facade and would kill him where he stood if he didn't play along.

The Jiralhanae positioned themselves so that one was leading the way while the other was behind Thel, ensuring that he kept moving and wouldn't run off. There was no doubt in Thel's mind that the Captain Ultras knew. Urse was right.

They led him from alley to alley, making sure that there was no patrol when they moved through the streets of the buildings. Thel mused on whether to draw his plasma rifle and shoot his way from the Jiralhanae, but it wouldn't work. Being agent in the service directly to a Prophet, the Captain Ultras had energy shields that would be a problem. That, and so many nearby patrols oblivious to their skulking would attack Thel before they thought about who he was, and why he attacked the two Captain Ultras.

"Why were you hiding in the alley?" The front one questioned.

__Are there really Gods? And are they playing a cruel jape on me for abandoning them? No. Thoughts for the weak. The Forerunners aren't Gods.) __"At the time, I needed to speak with the Fleetmaster. If I walked into the open with damaged armor, one of my rank or exceeding it may have pulled me aside to questioned why that was. This is why I kept to the alleys."

"There is no lack of sense there," The Jiralhanae behind Thel remarked. Since it was speaking the Sangheili's tongue—the universal language of most races of the Covenant—Thel heard sarcasm in the Jiralhanae's tone.

"Where's your team?" The frontal one questioned.

"They were killed by the Demon that came through the portal," Thel lied. Each lie he spun sent shudders through him, but he would attach no limits to his lies. Getting to Vale was all that mattered.

The frontal Captain Ultra rubbed the back of his head—not wearing a helmet as was regulated by attire protocols. "Didn't that Kig-Yar sniper not say that he saw a Demon and that dead Zealot fall off the edge, near the portal, and get sucked into it?" _(I was hoping this excuse would actually prove more usual than my others. Maybe... it isn't too late.) _

"Yes!" The rear Captain Ultra confirmed. "That stupid bird should have killed the damn Demon with its rifle when it had the clear chance! How foolish to try and leave it to the Zealot—even if it did want to take the kill for itself! Damn Sangheili honor"

"I will see to his execution later," The frontal one said, waving Thel and the other Jiralhanae onward. Moments later, they exited the alley and entered the courtyard in front of the portable building that served as the Prophet's quarters.

"How did you survive the Demon?" The rear Captain Ultra asked as they began approaching the large domed building that the Prophet of Pity resided in.

__(There's no absent of an excuse for this question, either.) __"I barely did," Thel lied, adding, "I managed to kill the Demon at the last moment. They aren't as strong as they would have us believe; I almost killed another Demon a couple of cycles pass. And the one I almost killed having been the leader of their branch, killing a minor was easy, suffice to say."

"The Prophets will reward you greatly for your elimination of the bastard beast," The front Jiralhanae assured.

_(What reward could the Prophets hand me that will make up for my broken devotion? None.) _"I seek no reward; for the greatest reward will soon begin," Thel played himself off as a humble idiot to the Jiralhanae as the trio walked down the path through the courtyard. Their destination, the Prophet's quarters, was directly ahead.

The quarters were large—for a Prophet, it was nothing surreal. But this was overdoing the expression of their power. The quarter's architecture was curved and smooth with the usual Covenant tinge of purple and pink covering the exterior. The quarter's roof curved into a slope, forming a dome with a gravity tower positioned each side of the domed building, each tower having two Sangheili snipers in them. Additionally, ten Sangheili Honor Guards flanked each side of the path leading up to the massive main doors of the quarter. Each Honor Guard were weighed down in their traditional crimson and gold armor and were all standing dead still with a tall stave in hand.

"Prepare to behold the holy Prophet of Pity," The Captain Ultra up front told Thel as the trio stopped at the entrance to the Prophet's quarters. The Honor Guards at the exterior door to the quarters couldn't resist the urge to glance at Thel as he passed. There was little profession in their actions. Thel frown in astonishment and confusion.

Ignoring it, Thel turned his head frontward, subduing the urge to run in once the doors hissed open and kill the lying Prophet bastard. His muscles tensed as the doors hissed opened, dinging an almost iconic sound.

The Jiralhanae escorted Thel into the single, round, large room which served as the Prophet of Pity's quarters. On-board Fleetmaster Vale's capital ship, the _Everlasting Retribution_, the Prophet would occupy Vales quarters. Vale never showed disposition over it, but it was incredibly unorthodox.

A dim, purple light filled the room; rugs made of the finest hide from animals native to Covenant planets covering the metal floor with no signs of the metal being visible under the makeshift carpet; furniture heavily engraved with ancient San'Shuum hieroglyphs were set up in a living quarters style and curving shelves with scrolls stockpiled on each shelf leaning against the single, three hundred and sixty degree circling wall.

The Prophet himself sat near his personal terminal, his anti-gravity chair stationed in the port by the terminal as the Prophet read from a holographic scroll.

"Holy Prophet of Pity," The first Captain Ultra said as he and his comrade bowed without beckoning Thel to do so, expecting him to know his courtesies. "We bring you a Sangheili, who claims to be the leader of a team of service to your Ministry. The team went missing a segment and a half ago, during our assault on the Human planet named Atmosus."

Following the Jiralhanae's example, Thel fell to his knees, bowing his head down in respect, but secretly harboring a disgust in his kneeling. _(My self-promise, to never kneel again, has already been broken. At least there's a merit. But betraying my own vows...? How pitiful.)_

"Leave us," The Prophet gestured as he put his scroll down on a table next to his terminal. Thel was baffled when craned his head around and saw that the Prophet wasn't addressing the two Jiralhanae but was instead ordering the two Honor Guards guarding the interior entrance to the quarters to leave.

Now in deeper hot water, Thel was wary of the Prophet, who de-ported his anti-gravity chair and hovered over to where Thel was kneeling. "Now, Thel 'Lodamee," The Prophet began, halting in front of Thel. "How are you here—on this holy ring, Halo?"

__(You know, do you not? You are wary of us.) __"I met a holy Oracle within the Forerunner structure you assigned us to secure, Holy Prophet. Upon encountering the Oracle, it teleported me and my surviving team here." Thel explained, keeping any signs of hatred or disgust from his voice. Being among politics shaped Thel's voice to adjust automatically to any situation that required him to use a false set of emotions.

"Why did a holy Oracle—voice of our Gods—teleport you to this sacred ring—the key to our salvation?" The Prophet asked, massaging his wattles in a rhythm that Thel had seen him massage them in before when he used to have the rare meetings concerning the Ministry's future with the Prophet. They knew each other, but both hated each other.

__(I need to sway the topic.) __"It was not meant to be this Halo," Thel explained, keeping as much truth in his words and trying to avoid lying as best he could.

The Prophet tilted his head, ceasing his massaging and grabbing onto the arms of his anti-gravity chair. "You didn't answer my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—question. And I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—advise that you redirect your attitude of one full of compliance."

_(His speech patterns haven't changed. They consist of puzzling redirections and a grand amount of arrogance. This is only his calm attire; the one of anger is both amusing and dangerous.) _"The Oracle teleported us here at my command." Thel answered truthfully, seeing if he could manipulate the Prophet into expressing his alarm in some way.

"Why is that so? The Prophet asked, tilting his head to emphasize the confusion further in his tone.

Thel was going to take a leap of faith, and be blunt. "Because it told me the truth of the Great Journey." Immediately, Thel rose his head and spotted the Prophet of Pity's shocked expression. He knew the truth, but he somehow didn't believe Thel to have known the truth. So why were the Jiralhanae so persistent?

"SO IT _IS_ TRUE!" Thel roared, the revelation coming at no shock, but the anger of his theories all being correct breaking any self-control he harbored up to that point. "The Humans _ARE _the Reclaimers—your entire race deceived us!"

The Prophet looked as if he was about to explode into rage, but calmed himself down enough to glance at one of the two Jiralhanae behind Thel. "Remove his helmet," He commanded with a sharp gesture.

The Jiralhanae followed through with their order and removed Thel's helmet, the Prophet smacking Thel across the face afterward with all his force, but failing to make Thel even twitch with pain. _(So weak.) _"I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will have you executed for your high heresy, _HERETIC_!"

_(This is laughable.) _"Your race is so weak that even the strength, to provoke pain, is not in your grasp," Thel chuckled, gritting his mandibles into a smirk. "I despise myself for ever believing your race, along with ours, to ever be the inheritors of the Forerunners' legacy. 'Gods must be strong'? _You betray your own motto_."

"Does your heresy have _no_ limits?!" The Prophet asked in a shocked tone, scoffing in disbelief whilst pointing an accusing finger at Thel. "You say things that are so unholy that even your death would not be a justified punishment."

_(You're lying through your pathetic, golden braced teeth!) _"_What_ heresy?" Thel asked. "I saw your expression of shock—as did the two Jiralhanae behind me. I know the truth, and so do _you_."

"We didn't see anything, heretic," One of the Jiralhanae behind Thel said, growling lightly in the Jiralhanae's equivalent to a laugh.

_(NO! They're in on it!) _Thel rose to his hooves, spinning around to face the two Jiralhanae that had risen as well, ready to strike Thel down if he tried anything. "What did the Prophet's promise you? You lick their wattles so much that you put them before the Covenant? Despicable—and to think I mourned for those of your kind that died aboard the _Resplendent Fervor_. Your race are barbarians—_you are worse than the damn Humans_!"

"Seize him!" The Prophet ordered with a wave of his hand. "Take him to an isolated section and execute him quietly. _Do not fail me_. This heretic's lies damage my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—mind."

_(This is not my end. I will kill you—slowly.) _"You mean the _truth_?!" Thel snapped as a muffle was worked around his mandibles while the second Jiralhanae latched on a pair of holographic bounds on his wrist.

His two hearts went up when the door behind him hissed open—was it Vale? Or was it another?

"Ah," The Prophet's face went from one of anger and aggression to one of joy as he gestured to whoever just came through the door. "A holy Sentinel—warrior of our holy Gods—has blessed us—those worthy to walk the blessed path—with its divine presence!"

_(As I said: this is not the rotation I die.) _"Cover his eyes," The Prophet ordered the two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras, "he is not worthy to lay eyes on the holy warrior of our Gods—the divine Forerunners."

Thel heard the Sentinel hover around, the distant buzzing of its movement giving Thel's hearing membranes the indication he needed to know that the Sentinel was the Monarchs. It was investigating what was happening. The Sentinels had been observing Thel from a distance, and one went after him when he entered the zone he designated to the Monarch as "the damnation zone."

Thel couldn't see where the Jiralhanae were taking him; he just heard another door hissing open a moment later—the secret escape route for the Prophet's quarters. One's establishment was crucial for when a Prophet was stationed planet-side. Thel didn't suspect one would be set up so soon after the quarter's own erection.

Moments more later, the trio arrived at the Prophet's emergency escape Guider. The Type-24 light mobile infantry transport's primarily function was not in combat, but more as a short-range transport for units in non-combat zones. It was popular among the civilians of _High Charity _and other Covenant controlled worlds.

All Thel heard was the doors being opened before they were stuffing him into the back seats of the Guider. The metal seats bumped Thel's head when he went thumping in, and his head began to ring. The two Captain Ultras laughed at the bonus of their rough handling before moving around to the front of the Guider and getting in. The vehicle's engines whirled to life before zooming off, the momentum sending Thel bumping around the back.

About a unit later, the Guide came to a sudden stop, the force of the breaking sending Thel flying forward and hitting himself on the back of the frontal seats. _(I always hated these damn transports—even on Sanghelios. They are not fitted for the all-terrain performances they are tasked to.)_

One of the Jiralhanae barked something in their native tongue—which Thel couldn't understand since they stole his helmet. Thel heard the two dismount the Guider and hurry around to the back, the door hissing open before they grabbed Thel's ankles and dragged him out onto the cold grass.

_(The Monarch better not fail my faith—I refuse to die this rotation. Not now, not ever!) _"Right, first thing's first: how do we lower his shields?" One of the hairy beasts asked.

"With this, of course," The second Captain Ultra replied as he charged a plasma pistol.

"And of his body?" The first Captain Ultra asked its second question eagerly.

"What do you mean?" The second Captain Ultra asked, confused.

"What happens if the damn Sangheili come across his body by chance?" The first Captain Ultra clarified. "Would they not be asking questions as to why a dead Sangheili, they found, has a spiker projectile in his head?"

"Well... we could just _not _use a spiker," The second Captain Ultra suggested, the first grunting in annoyance as the second added, "Or we could eat him. Take your pick."

_(Barbarians!)_

"What's that noise?" The second Captain Ultra asked, diverting from the main topic.

"_DEMON_!" The first one roared in defiance, firing his plasma pistol.

Surprise hit Thel. The Monarch had sent the Demon to save him. __(The blood irony!) __

Despite not seeing the battle, he heard it. He heard gunfire from the Demon's weapon along with the impact of projectile rounds on one of the Jiralhanae's shields. Subsequently, the zapping of the Jiralhanae's shields was replaced with the contact of the projectiles on flesh. Successively, there was the sound of a dead Jiralhanae's body thumping onto the ground.

Thel's hearts dropped when he heard what sounded like something heavy hitting something of a metal nature before hearing the Demon grunt. __(Did the bastard wound him? Or did he just harm the Demon's already existent wound? An energy blade cut, was it not? From the Zealot that fell through the portal with him.)__

The sound of the Demon's grunting was subtle and quick before the sound of struggling replaced it. Thel frowned under his eye binds when he heard the final Jiralhanae roar in pain—and not just ordinary pain, but tortured pain. Accompanying this was a flesh ripping sound. Thel dreaded to think of the source of such sounds.

The sound of the final Jiralhanae's body thudding on the ground reassured Thel that he would live to see the next rotation. He was saved from death at the last moment—a typical feat that was present in many stories that annoyed Thel. A character shouldn't have survived a trial by being rescued from death at the last moment. But, perhaps, such a thing could have happened every now and again. Thel wasn't complaining.

Thel heard the loud footsteps of the Demon as he approached him, kneeling down next to him as he removed Thel's bindings.

As soon as he was free, Thel got to his hooves and hurried over to the Guider where he assumed the Jiralhanae kept his weapons as trophies—as was standard for them. They took Human weapons as trophies—something that Thel hated. It was a tradition of theirs.

Thel found his helmet, energy sword, and his plasma rifle. Holstering his two weapons and placing his helmet back over his head, Thel turned around, hissing in disgust when he saw that one of the dead Jiralhanae was missing the top part of his head. The missing top part of the head laid a unit away, laying in a pool of Jiralhanae red blood. Thel had no doubt that the sounds of pain and flesh ripping originated from this.

Thel thought about cursing the Demon for such an action. Turning to address the Demon, he saw that the Demon's wound was bleeding again—having been tended to at the tower before Thel left, earlier. _(He will die if that is not tended to.)_ "You'll most likely die of infection without treating that wound," Thel warned the Demon.

The Demon shook his head in reply.

Thel frowned. __(No?) __"What do you mean?" Thel asked before remembering that he couldn't understand the Demon's tongue. "Never mind?" Thel waved dismissively, silently scolding himself for the minor display of ignorance on his part.

The Demon nodded to confirm that he wasn't planning on following it up as he approached the Guider.

"We'll use this to get back to the tower," Thel told the Demon as he opened the front upward hinging doors of the Guider and hopped into the driver's seat. Annoyingly, the Demon got in the passenger's seat rather than a back seat.

__(It's close to me. I don't like it being so close to me. Why did it have to sit next to me?) __Thel rid himself of the thought and harshly reminded himself that cooperation with the Demon was a key factor in defeating the Prophet of Pity.

A rehash of Thel's previous plan wouldn't be acceptable. They were closer to the tower than they were the Covenant base. It was more conventional to retreat and re-plan the possible options.

__(Any option viable enough to be acceptable will be enacted on. Pity. Is. Mine!)__

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>**

The Guider: I was searching the Halo wiki for a Covenant vehicle that would be similar to a Humvee where the Jiralhanae (Brutes) could just place Thel in a seat and not have to worry about him escaping. However, I didn't find any Covenant vehicles that allowed this. So I made up my own. The Type-24 Light Mobile Infantry Transport (A.K.A: The Guider) Is what I made up. Sometimes, you just have to add your own stuff. It's fine as long as the said stuff doesn't conflict with the sourced lore.


	5. An Air of Tension

_She was always there... like a God. _

_But she wasn't a God; she knew she wasn't a God, but it couldn't be helped._

_We were SPARTANs. He was Ares... and she was Athena._

_"Red," She began with taking a sample from her mug of coffee; she sat behind a desk with an assortment of paperwork and data chips coating it, "we have a unique situation, here. One that requires attention." _

_I stood there, like stone. I didn't move or blink; my stagnant trend annoyed her to some degree, but what did she expect from me; from any SPARTAN? _

_She took another sip of her beverage before setting the cup down and standing up over her desk. "At four, twenty-seven hours, yesterday, you were shot in the posterior with a single round from an M6C by your Handler, Petty Officer Second Class Gerry Paiston." _

_She walked around her desk and stopped in front of me where she bent down to my level; looking into our eyes had an influence that no other could administer. "Petty Officer Paiston is, at the moment, being court-martialed," She continued, "but my concerns are based around a relatively detailed report I received. Apparently, at the age of eight, as you are now, you did not cry when an M228 semi-armor-piercing high-penetration round shattered your iliolumbar ligament. _

_"Ma'am," I aligned myself so I was standing strait; the strain of my injury made my face rigid, "I have always shared my pain."_

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red-098)<strong>

**[Date]****-****[November 4, 2547]**

**[Time]****-****[1652 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[Location]****-****[Forerunner Anti-Gravity Well Facility, Base of Forerunner Tower, Unknown Halo Installation]**

* * *

><p>With a so far tranquil trek back, it was stereotypical that something bad-to-frustrating would await 098 and Ultra's return to the Forerunner anti-gravity facility.<p>

The duo entered the tower's base to be greeted by eight Grunts—four of which had a propensity of screaming every time they saw 098—sitting in the hallway. Rek 'Galravee stood over the eight creatures, overseeing them; the Elites must have had a punishment game.

"One squeak and you're all dead," Rek coldly warned the Grunts; he added a snap of his mandibles to moreover intimidate the already frightened aliens of a mild dimension.

"But, Demon scary!" A Grunt protested; its barks were apprehensive but loud enough to make its point heard, but still remaining shallow adequately as to not exasperate Rek.

"That may be so," Rek said, "but as of this moment, the Demon is not going to go out of his way to kill you."

"One thing more scarier than Demon," Another Grunt joined in, "and that being never eat from food nipple again!"

"Scream," Rek snarled, "and I assure that you will_ never_ get to eat from your nipple again."

"Let's got," A Grunt Major barked as it got up from being situation on the cold plated ground and waved its associates to follow.

Another Grunt let out a complaining yap as it said, "It chilly out there!"

"Yeah," Another Grunt added, "no wanna go out_ there!_"

_(Indirect diversion tactics successful. Forceful halting of tactics dictated by protocol.)_ 098 snapped his DMRfrom his back and directed it at the group of Grunts. They all gaped at him, bewildered, advanced of springing to their feet and racing out of the facility, shrieking all the way.

Rek severed his mandibles where a roar of laughter emerged from them. "Pathetic creatures!"

098 slung his DMR back over his back and followed the Ultra and Rek to the room that the Monarch was in without there being any additional reasons to pause. 098 was thankful that the Grunts departed; he planned on killing them all if they didn't move within five seconds. The limited inclination towards the Grunts from the Elites made 098 reflect the outcome of eliminating the Grunts to be complimentary; the Elites likely wouldn't cock an eye.

"Entertaining," The Monarch said as the trio entered the central—and only—chamber of the facility,.

"Gods!" The Ultra exclaimed. "Urse, Anve—I forgot about them! And I call myself a leader?!" The Ultra slammed his fist onto his chest in stigma.

"Be at ease," The Monarch said, its heavy resonant voice booming through the room. "Subsequent to your aided escape, I assigned one of my few Sentinels to conduct an escort for your two comrades back to the tower we rest beneath."

The Ultra vented out a sigh of relief; 098 could see the hot air flowing out from the opening of the Ultra's helmet that laid below his jaw—an opening that never made sense in the Ultra armor design.

"Additionally, my scouting Sentinels have discovered something of a singular interest to this contingent," The Monarch said. "It's not the Monitor of this Installation or any of its Sentinels, but sooner a Huragok. It was lurking within the substrate of a nearby plasma deposit facility."

"A Huragok?" The Ultra rubbed his mandibles through the opening in his helmet.

"Yes," The Monarch affirmed, "It was unprecedented to have encountered a Huragok exemplary here considering they were only assigned to specific Installations, and this Installation resembles none of that manifest."

"The Huragok is an enigma?" Rek asked.

"I deduced so, yes. I may be mistaken, but I am rarely mistaken. I questioned the Huragok, although it has no recollection on aught exceeding six segments ago; its faculty premise is to repair everything and anything that requires fixing, and I encountered it doing that which was before-mentioned. It may be malfunctioning, but insignificant theories are irrelevant and speculative. This Installation's Monitor may confer an answer, but until then, we should not deter from utilizing such a production of my creators."

On queue, the door behind 098 opened; he turned to regard an Engineer—what the Office of Naval Intelligence termed them—enter the chamber. The alien hovered over the floor harmoniously—not like a machine with impetus systems, but a creature with the natural ability to float without any ample or sophisticated demand.

Dipping its head to scan the room, the Huragok's aim fell on 098. Furthermore, it began approaching the SPARTAN. It went against 098's margin limits that he installed, and the Huragok started touching the SPARTAN with its tentacles. With his alert mode spontaneously being aroused, 098 slowly lowered his hand to his holstered M6D.

"Be at ease," The Monarch said after discerning 098's preparation to strike, "the Huragok wouldn't harm or allow harm to you even if you were antagonistic to it. There is no need to show concern towards it."

"What do you imply by utilizing it?" The Ultra asked.

"Reclaimer, please relinquish your combat skin's helmet to the Huragok, Lighter Than Some, momentarily," The Monarch told 098.

_(Affirmative. Three minutes, set.)_ 098 clutched his helmet and twisted it, unhooking it and transmitting out a hissing noise succeeded by steam swirling away from his collar and helmet as he removed it and gave it to the Engineer.

"It_ is_ a Human," Rek observed.

Ignoring the observation, 098 watched the Engineer carefully as it twisted and rotated his Mark IV helmet in its tentacles, shaking it and probing it as if it were the oddest piece of technology it had ever seen.

"What's it doing?" The Ultra asked.

"You shall soon see," The Monarch responded.

With 098's helmet still twisting and turning in its tentacles, the Engineer bobbed over to a terminal under the wall-window and proceeded to pull out modules and nodes from 098's helmet.

_(Engineer conducting in illicit modification of Mark IV helmet. Action requisite.)_ 098 grabbed his M6D and fastened his aim to the Engineer.

"Reclaimer, please, be at ease," The Monarch solicited. "It is only enhancing your helmet's systems—nothing of concern."

_(Negative. Arbitration is required.)_ "Order it to desist in illegally altering of my equipment," 098 sternly told the Monarch.

"Reclaimer, I promise, it will not damage your helmet's systems; HUD, VISR—it's improving the systems already existing and appending new innovations that are vital for your continuance."

The consideration of lowering his weapon didn't reach 098; he wasn't about to lower his armament, and the Ultra got in his way. 098 reacted with trying to aim around the Elite, but he just moved with the SPARTAN's aim.

"You're in a friendly-fire zone," 098 warned the Ultra—despite the alien not being to understand him, "remove yourself."

Before intensification could occur, the Engineer drifted around the Ultra and handed 098 his helmet back. The SPARTAN promptly snapped his helmet from the alien's tentacle grasp. Content that the Engineer was of no danger, 098 holstered his magnum and worked his helmet back on; he noticed no difference besides a miniature alien glyph in the top left corner of his HUD that was gleaming blue.

"Elaborate on your changes," 098 ordered an explanation, but was startled to hear the words that transmitted from his helmets external speakers were in an alien language—Sangheili._ (Elaboration requirement admits no exceptions.) _

"What?" Rek asked, clattering his mandibles in confusion at the words that left 098's helmet.

Before any explanation could come from the Monarch, the doors behind 098 opened to have two Elite Minors enter the chamber with weapons in hand—weapons they soon placed down on the slab the Ultra took weapons from earlier, before going to the Covenant base.

"Brothers," The Ultra approached the two, "you both had me worried."

One of the Minors huffed in amusement. "We worried_ you?_ We heard you were captured by the bastard Prophet!"

"I was," The Ultra turned to face 098, "until the_ Demon_ saved me—not a factor I will resist excluding from my obliged side."

The two Minors, Urse, and Anve cocked their heads around to look at each other in amusement. The Ultra wasn't so amused and was about to address the Minors' humor when the Engineer let out a light moan as it moved out from behind 098.

098 turned and watched as the Engineer moved over to the Monarch's Parisadal.

"Of course!" The Monarch joyously exclaimed—his shift of pitch made him sound as if he were pleased, but it was hard to distinguish with the AIs metallic voice. "The Huragok can disconnect me from the Parisadal!"

"It can release your mobile form?" The Ultra asked, his tone a blend of eagerness and interest.

"Yes," The Monarch confirmed. "This will develop my strategy's immediate action."

_(Request for elaboration is a priority.)_ "Elaborate," 098 said, but again noticed that the words, which left his mouth_, were_ English, but the external speakers of his helmet broadcasted the words as Sangheili._ (This "modification" will need a punctual exposition.) _

"You speak our tongue now?" Questioned one of the Minors who seemed startled by the authentic sound of the translated voice. The Engineer must've used a Covenant translator for its alterations—098 thought he noticed it tampering with a Covenant device from the equipment slab whilst pulling apart his helmet.

_(Negative.)_ 098 shook his head in reply to the Minor's question. "Negative." Again, his words were Sangheili.

"You_ sure?_" The second Minor sarcastically asked. His sarcasm only made 098 more irritated.

"Allow me to explain," The Monarch broke in, "The Huragok, Lighter Than Some, built into the Reclaimer's helmet a broadcasting translation system that he can toggle on or off as he so covets. While activated, his words will be transmitted as Sangheili by his helmet. Whilst off, his words will be broadcast as English—the hub Human language."

"How do I deactivate the translation device?" 098 asked the Monarch. He didn't want to disable it, but he needed to have the selection for when he encountered Humans again.

The Engineer moved in front of the Monarch's eye that was centered in its mainframe. The Engineer then did a number of motions and gestures with its tentacles in front of the Parisadal.

"Lighter Than Some cases that the translation system is voice-controlled," The Monarch elucidated.

The Engineer did some more movements with its tentacles; it remained in front of the Monarch's monitor so the AI could gather what the Engineer was saying as soon as it began motioning.

"Lighter Than Some says that if you need more language translations, he will implement them," The Monarch interpreted for the Engineer.

"That will not be necessary," Rek said. "All Covenant races converse in Sangheili."

With nothing more needing explaining, the Engineer began working on removing the Monarch for his Parisadal.

"What is your strategy anyway?" The Ultra asked the Monarch, cracking his fingers; he shuddered as one finger crackled, it likely hurting more than the others.

"The Sentinel, I sent into the portal, has analyzed the planet on the opposite side," The Monarch began, "and the planetoid is, coincidentally, in the very star system as that of the planet my facility resided on. The planet is under oppressive siege by the meddling Covenant Empire but has hitherto to decline, and numerous Reclaimer ships still endure in orbit; their defensive campaign is graduating to a conclusion. My intention is once I convert to my portable form, to go through the portal and approach one of the Reclaimer ships; the scanning, my Sentinel has achieved, has aggregated that the Reclaimer ships have inferior Slipspace drives to Forerunner models."

"You're going to ask them for aid?" The Ultra suspected.

"Correct. If they respond to my hail, I will give them the coordinates for this Installation; albeit I can't determine which Installation this is, I have instituted the parallels into my neurological nucleus... a troubling prospect is the unfamiliarity of these vectors to me."

"This will be precarious," The Ultra noted.

"Why these lengths?" Rek inquired. "Why not approach Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee yourself? Little stops you."

"I could," The Monarch replied, "but if I were to take up that method and founder, the Reclaimer flotilla may be decimated; time is of the essence, and I cannot spare a single second."

"What is the average duration needed spent for a Human craft to get hither?" The Ultra asked.

"My Sentinel's relaying of cultural and systematic data—intelligence it has seized from Reclaimer computational devices found in a nearby deserted city from the portal's cradle—has supplied me with insight to relish on. The Reclaimer vessel will take about two weeks to traverse through Slipspace; the Void."

"Two weeks?" The Ultra asked, grinding his hidden mandibles together in frustration. "Doubtlessly, the Covenant has already executed on the deemed input procedures for this Installation's coordinates, and a fleet shall soon arrive. There exists no confliction in my mind over the facts that have been written into protocol."

"I understand your solicitude on time reserves," The Monarch addressed the Elite Ultra, "but rest assured; the ship only necessitates coming out of the Void, enter this Installation's atmosphere, secure your contingent and the Reclaimer, and re-enter the Void on a course to the Reclaimer's homeworld, Erde-Tyrene. Manageable."

_(A misconception of our protocols has been demonstrated.)_ "No," 098 interjected, "an express retreat to Earth is treasonous. The ship would have to enact on the Cole Protocol, and pursue a stochastic Slipspace jump before establishing a heading for Earth."

The four Elites all looked at 098 in confusion and irritation as Rek roared, "THAT EXPLAINS A LOT!"

The Ultra dipped his head. "Your system obtained you an enduring defense against us. A last resort, to be sure, but one to be condoned."

"The Cole Protocol proved to be practical," 098 added to the Ultra's words in agreement.

"Finally!" The Monarch said as his mobile form was released from the Parisadal. "This new impulse is refreshing! To contemporary issues; I am off to organize my absence." The Monarch zoomed out of the chamber, the doors hissing open for the AI and hissing shut moments later.

"He's off fast," Rek observed amusingly.

The Ultra huffed—098 couldn't work out why he was huffing—and approached the one-way wall-window. "Brothers, you may leave me and the Demon for I seek a word with him. Take the Huragok with you, too."

Rek and the two Minors lowered their heads in respect before departing from the chamber; one of the Minors waved the Engineer to follow the trio. Once they were gone and the large arched door had hissed back into place, 098 warily approached the Ultra.

"I'm thankful that Luro—that fool—prevented me from executing your Master Chief," The Ultra said as 098 positioned himself by the Elite's side; the SPARTAN looked through the extensive window and surveyed the terrain.

_(Luck? Or experience?)_ "He articulated of you extensively," 098 stated while watching the sun set over the distant mountains, hills, and plains; the flickering radiance of the sun illuminated light into the chamber—the window covering the wall may be enormous and made out of alien glass, but it still didn't obstruct sunlight.

"What did your Master Chief say of me?" The Ultra asked.

"He denoted anxiety over his defeat and consequent near-death experience brought upon by a Major Class Elite. He didn't speak favorably of you but employed you as a motivation for him to increment his combat proficiency."

"Regardless, I had a mental effect on him?" The Ultra asked. The alien seemed intrigued by the impression he had left on the Master Chief, John-117.

_(Affirmative. Increase in physiological and psychological profiling is a submitted response to his near-death experience."_ "He's stronger because of you."

"I pity any warrior to face him on the battlefield," The Ultra remarked, clattering and clacking his mandibles in a way that Sangheili did when they chuckled.

"I was almost committed to the mission of topic," 098 asserted.

"I hope you hold no regret of the 'almost'; your death would've been feasible in the mission."

"Is that all?" 098 asked. By standards, he was_ technically_ conversing with the Ultra; conversing with Humans was something that 098 felt uncomfortable with, so prattling with aliens was predicted to be daunting.

"We were off topic, just then," The Ultra said as he folded his arms. "My central concern is elsewhere... about our instinctual drives to kill each other in the Guider."

_(As suspected; I am not alone in suppressing hostile urges.)_ "I anticipated your disposition."

The Ultra did his chuckling movement with his mandibles again. "Then you're unusually close." The Ultra craned its head around to look at 098. "I'm only just barricading my ambition to kill you as we speak."

_(Possible hostile.)_ 098 slowly backed away from the Elite, watching the Ultra carefully and lowering his hand to his holstered magnum.

The Ultra seemed to notice 098 backing off despite returning his gaze to the window. "Relax, Demon, my quarantine is sufficient, to say. I won't kill you at this torched moment."

_(An elaboration on effectiveness of emotional isolation deemed essential for intensity levels to succumb to a methodical state.)_ "Are personal reminders effective?" 098 asked.

The Ultra nodded, still looking out the window. "Yes. I have resisted the urge to kill you several times as of now at my own accord, so I would say that 'personal reminders' work."

_(Possibility of personal reminders failing at a later, inapplicable and perilous time are high.)_ "Eighth time's the charm."

"Then let us agree on our honor that we shall not harm each other whilst business is at hand," The Ultra suggested.

_(I have no persona matter to be renowned as 'honor'; operation and mission success mandatory above all else; selfish needs are irrelevant._ "I don't hold a single aspect of honor," 098 told the Ultra.

"Then we are left in a plausible situation, aren't we?" The Ultra snorted out some air as a venting method. "At least you need not worry about me killing you. But can the same be said about you? Will you withhold your inner conflict with me?"

_(Affirmative. Operational and mission success is a priority.)_ "Affirmative," 098 said, relaxing his muscles and returning to his original position next to the Ultra. "I'll not make any attempt to engage and eliminate you or assassinate you unless I'm provoked."

"Then we shall both survive against each other," The Ultra shook his long neck akin to how a horse would; it wasn't to shoo away any flies, but a shudder that went down the Elite's spine from the alien cracking its fingers as he and 098 spoke.

_(Assessment: Ultra requires stimulation of stress.)_ "Is that all?" 098 asked.

"One final matter," The Ultra replied as he turned around to face 098 and pointed at the SPARTAN's wounded. "Your hand wound; your torso wound. Left untreated, you will not survive. A closer eye—such as mine—would warn you of an oncoming infection. If you will acknowledge my warning, then be advised that an infection is growing rapidly."

_(Acknowledged. Solution required.)_ "Solution?" 098 asked.

"Take the Guider and travel East," The Ultra answered. "The Monarch mentioned that there was an ocean that way. Use the salt water to kill any infections or bacteria in the cuts before using the materials from your ammo pouches as bandages... it would help if you_ didn't_ loose your medical kit in the future."

_(Affirmative. Albeit, an argument is to be made. Medical equipment was not expected due to ODST medical kits on their person; ammunition satchels and pouches required the belt space.)_ "Acknowledged," 098 said, ignoring the argument in his head. The SPARTAN was about to turn and leave when something in the distance caught his attention.

The Ultra hissed. "So, they finally arrived."

098 wasn't overly sure what the Ultra meant, but upon zooming his VISR in and taking a step closer to the wall-window, he saw the Ultra's meaning.

A Covenant fleet was exiting Slipspace.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Thanks go out to Lydnakey1 for bringing a plot idea to my head. Well.. that was an easy note.


	6. One Who Sees from the Sky

**(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)**

**[Date]****-****[November 5, 2547]**

**[Time]****-****[0912 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[Location]-[Central Covenant Outpost, Base of Forerunner Portal, Unknown Halo Installation]**

* * *

><p>"Why did the Demon not return through the portal?" Yexyn 'Sarasai wondered, scratching his lower mandibles that both twitched as the nerves reacted to the attention.<p>

Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee craned his head around from looking at the early rotation sun to answer. He saw his closest friend observing the portal and the dozens of lined Unggoy marching from it in an ordinarily fashion, over one of the many ramps extending from it, with several Sangheili Majors over watching them.

Yexyn had only recently arrived on Halo with his ship; the Shipmaster didn't know all the details being recorded of the portal. "The ramps were not activated at the time, brother," Vale explained. The tall Sangheili Fleetmaster spoke in a voice that lacked pitch. There was unquestionably a tone and unique fiber to his voice, but it didn't express what he was thinking. Many held Vale's voice to esteem as one that inspires courage and denotes authority; a leader's voice was the classification of the Fleetmaster's voice.

Vale's assumption was correct. A Ranger scouting Lance was sent through the portal the previous rotation to assess the environment and secure the location from any hostile natives. They were also to set up an oxygen dome if the atmosphere of the sacred ring was hazardous. When they returned, they reported no hostilities; no dangerous natural liabilities. They also informed that the portal seemed to have a ramp system from the appearance of the Halo side's surrounding arches and braces. Further research on the controls of the portal on the controlled side found the access to those systems.

Yexyn grunted and clattered his mandibles in irritation. "So," the Shipmaster said, "the demon spreads its filthy feet across Halo's holy soil as we speak."

_(And more.)_ Vale shifted from standing by the edge of the hill they were on which overlooked the entire base—a beautiful view, in the Fleetmaster's mind. "And spills blood," Vale added with the two missing Jiralhanae Captain Ultras in mind as he spoke. Vale feared the worst for the two.

Yexyn turned from observing the marching Unggoy to face Vale, wearing something of a suggestive look that Vale was familiar and knew how to judge thoroughly. "They may yet live."

_(Not if the Demon is the source of their disappearance . . . Another may be the solution.)_ "I mean to uncover their actual fate, brother," Vale assured Yexyn. "Speaking with the Holy Prophet of Pity will set me on the right path in my hopes, but he is continuous in his affront to courtesy codes. He persists in avoiding me, so answers are not easily obtained."

Yexyn ground his mandibles together in amusement, and titled his head, silently asking_ really?_ "I don't recall you as one to accept avoidance. One who gets the task done falls into a better sense."

_(Being around that Prophet demands changes. Some I've made, many I've forced away.)_ "The Prophet's excuses hold more than a grain of merit." Vale glanced over to the distant purple dome building that belonged to the Prophet or Pity. "Most of the time, the Holy Prophet is in the middle of a sermon, and it is heresy to interrupt."

Yexyn turned his gaze to a nearby holotank down in a Unggoy assembly that was to be used by the little creatures to watch broadcasts. It was not being used. "Vale, I don't believe that the moment falls to the Holy Prophet's sermon."

Vale followed Yexyn's gaze and came to the same resolution after observing other holotanks in other courtyards and assemblies—his position gave him the advantage to see into almost every opening section of the base.

_(So be it.)_ Vale turned his head back around to face Yexyn, giving him a nod of approval. "Very well, I shall heed what you spoke and go speak to the Prophet of Pity immediately—before it's too late."

"I have always been an asset to your wisdom," Yexyn chuckled. The lack of his sarcastic tone made his remark ever the more amusing.

_(I do not need to play along with your jest; you speak the truth had I ever heard such a fact.)_ "And never let a soul tell you otherwise," Vale said, giving Yexyn a departing gesture and turning away, making his way down the hill and towards the Prophet's quarters.

Around the base, the activity became much busier subsequent to half of Vale's fleet arriving at Halo. The other half remained in orbit over the Human planet to finish glassing the planetoid before jumping through the Void and regrouping with the other half.

With half of Vale's fleet came an extensive number of reinforcements that also brought their set of difficulties; the base was too small for more than a thousand ground forces. The rest of the troops would remain stationed on the ships in orbit over the portal and base. There were so many ships that the view of the sky was on the basis of being shielded. Vale found it unfortunate as the scene of Halo's sky was fantastic at worst and majestic at best.

Vale's fleet, the_ Second Fleet of Divine Trinity,_ was exceptionally large for a Covenant fleet. There were two CAS-Class Assault Carriers that served as the capital and executive ship. There were many more other carriers, corvettes, destroyers, cruisers and frigates that made up the bulk of the fleet. The entire quantity cumulated down to one hundred and eight ships.

Half of the fleet, led by Vale's ship and flagship of the fleet, the_ Everlasting Retribution,_ were stationed in different locations over the ring. The agriculture ships were in orbit above the base, so supplementation was trivial. Additionally, the carriers with their mass were ordered to remain stationary over the portal, and each had their respective gravity lifts set up; ground-side and ship-side access was made even easier by Vale's tactics.

The cruisers, frigates, and corvettes were scouting and mapping the ring. Vale had one specially assigned to hunting the Demon. Against many advisors recommendation, Vale made it a standing command that if the Demon had an opening for capture, the chance wasn't to pass. However, the purposed was to die if even one Covenant life came under risk.

Vale desired to convince the Prophet of Pity to retreat to the_ Everlasting Retribution_ so he would be safe. Halo may have seemed like a paradise to the non-prying eye, but Vale saw through the blessed barrier, and witnessed a dangerous hell seeking a reason to observe itself being provoked into life. In simpler terms, Vale was cautious of what laid hidden on Halo.

The base itself Vale had ordered built upon the cliff beneath the portal with a perimeter wall being erected around it; anti-gravity towers saw themselves placed at each intersection and vantage point. Portable structures had also seen placement in a grid formation inside the perimeter walls with alleyways separating each building. Vale didn't like the alleyways as they more or less were concealed by overhanging appendages, and the Demon could be lurking in the shadows at the very moment of Vale's thought on it.

Since the base was being shared by both Sangheili and Jiralhanae, there were risks of conflict. More than risks; two fights had broken out between the two races, started by the Jiralhanae which resulted in a Sangheili being severely wounded. The Jiralhanae, who started the fight, were executed by their Chieftain, Literus, before Vale could obstruct the brutal punishment. Vale hoped that a helpful result would be of the Jiralhanaes' deaths; the Fleetmaster desired that the Prophet of Pity may summon Vale to speak of the execution. But in the units since it happened, there was no such consequent.

"Fleetmaster, a word!" Vale turned to the voice and saw a young Sangheili Minor running up to him.

The Minor's name was Rirst 'Amonee. Vale knew the names of all Sangheili by scent, and he regularly interacted with those under his command to emphasize that they were more than mere warriors in his eyes. At the current time, Vale had no time to donate for the Minor.

"Forgive me, brother, but I must hurry to speak words with the Holy Prophet of Pity." Vale calmly gestured so Rirst would halt, further clicking his mandibles in an apologetic motion, so the Minor did not suffer offence.

"I mean not to steal your time, brother." Rirst said, clicking and clattering his mandibles in excitement, his eyes beaming; the Minor enjoyed the little time he had with Vale. "Only allow me to steal the time already in use as you walk to the Holy Prophet's quarters. Is such a request to be denied?"

_(An excited young fellow, but he suffers from not knowing his courtesies. Thank the Gods his under the command of one I trust to be patient and compassionate.)_ "We'll converse," Vale gestured for the Minor to fall in with his pace as he swirled back around and continued on. "But we will have to stop when I reach my destination."

"Of course," Rirst said as he fell in next to Vale, keeping to the Fleetmaster's exact pace.

_(Perhaps he is merely excited to be walking on Halo's soil.)_ "What did you want to speak about?" Vale asked as the duo moved out-of-the-way of a Kig-Yar patrol.

"Gratitude, is all," Rirst answered as he fell back in with Vale after moving for the patrol. "I mean to thank you for guiding us to this holy ring."

_(Is it ethical to be thanked for an indirect action? It was a dependable topic of conversion that Yexyn may be interested in; he always enjoyed discussing my logic with me.)_ "Brother, I had no meaning to discover what I did. But I am what I am. You're free to thank me, but the Prophet of Pity would argue that it was his 'divine wisdom' that sees us here." Vale lightly rumbled in disapproval of the Prophet's usual irrelevant arguments.

"The Prophet of Pity can proclaim himself a hero all he wants; mere opinions cannot change a fact," Rirst stated as he and Vale turned a bend in the alleyway they walked through.

_(Those are dangerous words.)_ "I appreciate your acknowledgment," Vale said as the duo took another turn. "But you should be cautious at when you speak what; the Prophet would certainly use what you said against you if the words reached his ear."

"Why?" Rirst asked, worried and ground his mandibles in nervousness; he took a few quick glances around to check if we were out of a radius in which one could hear our conversation.

_(You are so young. There's a new aspiration: I hope the Great Journey commences before politics comes a concern of yours.)_ "Because the Prophets are cautious; they do not want to risk a challenge to their authority," Vale clarified.

"How is what we say a challenge?" Rirst asked. "Both the Sangheili and San'Shyuum share equal control over the Covenant. We control the military portion while they control religious activities and research. If the military discovered Halo instead of the Prophets, what matter does it weigh? We all walk the path no matter our position. Where is this equality that was prophesized about?"

_(You are too wise for your age. I respect you and worry for you.)_ "Your words hold truth, brother, but you must keep them to yourself. Ensure that you do nothing to jeopardize your spot on the path," Vale advised Rirst as they exited from an alleyway and entered the courtyard in front of the Prophet of Pity's quarters.

"Understood. I will do so, brother," Rirst reassured Vale. "Now, I shall leave you to your business."

"Come seek me some other time if you desire to speak," Vale said as he and Rirst approached the quarter's set of doors.

"Of course," Rirst nodded before turning and making his way back through the courtyard and back into one of the alleyways.

_(He is of a good nature. He doesn't deserve the punishment he'll receive if that good nature gets the better of him.)_ Vale watched Rirst disappear into a crowd of patrolling Sangheili before turning back to the doors and filling in the space between him and them. They hissed open, and he entered, standing tall and keeping a respectful posture.

Per the standard hobby of the Holy Prophet, Pity was sitting on his anti-gravity throne which was docked by his personal terminal. In his hands was a holographic scroll he was reviewing over. He put the scrolls down when he noticed me, and gestured in surprise. "Fleetmaster?"

_(He didn't expect me. Not even at a later time; he didn't expect me ever to approach him so soon.)_ "Holy Prophet of Pity," Vale said as he knelt in respect, lowering his long neck in a courtesy to bestow superiority to the Prophet.

"Why have the Gods—the divine Forerunners—blessed me—the Holy Prophet of Pity—with such a visit from one o' so worthy to walk the blessed path?" The Prophet of Pity asked, releasing his anti-gravity chair and spinning it around so he could face Vale fully.

"I mean to speak to you of the two missing Jiralhanae Captain Ultras, Holy Prophet. If you have the time, of course," Vale explained his visit. The Fleetmaster kept his tone humble and used a politeness his despised—the Sangheili leader didn't like having to change to be compatible with the laws of society.

"I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—was actually about to start another sermon; spread the holy words of the divine Forerunners—whose path we follow loyally," the Prophet said.

_(No, you were not.)_ "Forgive me, but time is of the essence; we must speak now, holy Prophet. Minor tasks can wait, I believe. This is a topic that warrants my intrusion," Vale convinced the Prophet. Vale could play the same game; he was an expert in the field the Prophet was walking through, and had a trump card.

The Prophet let out a relenting sigh. "So be it. You may rise, o' so worthy Fleetmaster."

Vale complied and returned to his hooves, pushing up from his knees and whipping his spine to a straight stance. "Can I speak my mind?" Vale asked. It was no secret that he and the Prophet of Pity hated each other. Despite their mutual resentment, they always kept to protocol . . . At least Vale did; the Prophet of Pity had the tendency of exploding when provoked. Vale also had the tendency to evoke the Prophet—they were a match made in hell.

The Prophet nodded, encouraging Vale to not deviate from any point that may seem blunt or harsh. The Prophet secretly wanted a reason to explode.

"Your avoidance has been noticed," Vale began, but was swiftly interrupted by the Prophet before he could resume his initiating words.

"Who would question_ my—_the Holy Prophet of Pity's—actions?" The Prophet asked. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—am the Holy Prophet of Pity—voice of the Covenant. My—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—business is not of the concern of lesser walkers on the path."

_(He stressed his name three times. No record; the maximum he referred to himself in the third person was twenty times in a single paragraph—and that wasn't him speaking in a sermon.)_ "It doesn't matter." Vale tried to pry the Prophet from his set course of destruction and ease him back onto the one_ he_ set. "What does is the missing Jiralhanae."

The Prophet bobbed his head; rubbed his wattles. "Why do those you resent—the o' so worthy Jiralhanae—matter in the least to you?"

_(Who said I resented them? Unless you're going by traditional fact with all Sangheili. Am I being compared to a stereotype?)_ "I don't resent the Jiralhanae. I find the feud unnecessary; unneeded. I don't agree with such things the Jiralhanae do, but they walk the path the same as me, and all thosewho walk the path are brothers." Vale gestured in conclusion, marking what he said as fact. "Also, those under the command of my fleet matter to me."

"_Such_ scandal!" The Prophet noted. His tone was a flavor of excitement, and he moved in eagerness in his throne. "For a Sangheili to care for the welfare of Jiralhanae? Amusing—_taboo!_ You'll be the product of chatter for segments to come, Fleetmaster!"

"I care not for what anyone thinks of me. With all due respect, that includes you and the rest of the High Council," Vale said truthfully and respectfully; the Fleetmaster always kept to a courteous tone when he was blunt. There was no case of misjudgment; the tactic was highly successful.

The Prophet studied Vale with his pair of judging, squinting eyes that sat wide apart from each other. "Just for the record, Fleetmaster, know that I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—and my fellow Prophet and Sangheili Councilors are mixed in reception to you. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—and a significant majority find you a bad instrument . . . The rest I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—are sure you know about."

_(Correct, I know who favors me . . . and who despises me. Both are equally as important as the other.)_ "If those who wish me removed from duty outway those who favor me, why has there been no dispute at the High Council's calling?"

The Prophet chuckled: "Back to the missing Jiralhanae."

_(So eager, are you, to change the subject that you would make it obvious that you are changing the subject? How out-of-character of you.)_ Vale ignored the tickling urge to call the Prophet up on his abrupt change of topic, and kept to the relevance of the time. "Holy Prophet, these Captain Ultras were agents of yours, no?" The Prophet nodded, giving Vale all the permission he needed to continue. "They are missing, and I have to be bold and assume that you know why."

Vale's indirect provocation was all that was needed to make the Prophet explode: "YOU_ DARE_ QUESTION_ ME—_THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—IN_ SUCH_ A WAY!" The Prophet screamed in rage, slamming his hands down onto the armrests of his throne. His display caused the two Honor Guards by the main entrance to ready themselves. Who they planned on seizing was built on Vale's best estimation that he hardly relied on in moments involving the Prophet of Pity's ludicrous attitude.

_(Halo has no change to your positivity—or lack there-of—I see. Regardless, you are needlessly shaming yourself.)_ ""They may be your pets," Vale said, "but while they are in my fleet, they are of my responsibility—as you are."

Vale didn't fear the Prophet's rage; the Fleetmaster had grown accustomed to the Prophet of Pity's ways of intimidation—whether those methods were efficient or not had yet to be proven. For Vale, they were not effective. That is why he said what he said next: "Going by the factor that they are your police, I have to conclude that you may know of the task in which they were assigned to when they disappeared. With the assignment, you may know the ultimate cause of their demise."

"It is heresy to question what I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—do behind closed doors," the Prophet sternly reminded Vale before exploding into another rage: "AND YET YOU DO SO! The management of the Jiralhanae IS_ NONE_ OF THE SANGHEILIS' AFFAIR!"

_(Incorrect. It is all our concern for very logical reasons.)_ "When we formed the Covenant, we—both of our races—came to the decision on who would handle what specification. The Prophet's would manage religious affairs; the Sangheili, military," Vale gave a calm history lesson to the Prophet. "The fact that the Prophets have Jiralhanae as their private agents goes against the Holy Writ of Union."

Again, this provoked the Prophet of Pity: "_HERESY!_ YOU_ DARE_ QUESTION OUR—THE HOLY PROPHETS'—HOLY DECISIONS! YOU COULD FACE EXECUTION FOR_ SUCH_ HERESY!"

_(But will I face execution? No, I think not.)_ "If I were to die for my words, I would've long ago," Vale countered the Prophet's argument with defiance, but kept a calm tone. "And I am too useful to the Covenant to be put down over what I say. My skills, strategy, tactics, and prowess are all too valuable assets for the Covenant."

"Do you wish to_ test_ that theory, o' so worthy Fleetmaster?" The Prophet grinned eagerly.

The two Honors Guards prepared to charge Vale if they were given the signal by the Prophet; the duo raised their energy staves and pointed them at Vale. The Fleetmaster was treading on dangerous ground—and he knew it. It was in times like this—he had been in similar situations—that Vale had to decide between his pride and honor, and his desire to survive. Generally, he would choose the latter . . . This situation was no difference.

"If the Prophet of Pity desires me to participate in a test, then I shall participate in a test," Vale said as he knelt in respect, bowing his head low. "But know that I only question you for one reason solely. If the Covenant were in a universal agreement in all matters of controversy, then we would be weaker. As long as our disagreements don't cross the barrier of do and don't, I do not believe questioning to be a wrong."

"Your mind is twisted," the Prophet of Pity commented on Vale's perceiving of the universe. "But, despite your_ inconveniences,_ you are truthful . . . most of the times; at the very least, I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will admit that much."

_(As I suspected; you won't kill me. If you do, the repercussions and the High Council's anger will have you hung. What I say matters only to you.)_ "Then," Vale said as he rose to his hooves, "we shall end this farce, and return our focus to the current circumstance drawing_ all_ our attention."

"The Jiralhanae Captain Ultras," The Prophet of Pity nodded. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—had meant to tell you sooner, but I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—needed to confirm my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—grave suspicions first, Fleetmaster. Apologies for the avoidance, but I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—didn't want to drag you into something when your focuses were elsewhere."

_(What does he speak of? And why do I find it unlikely?)_ "Please explain." Vale gestured, mutely asking the Prophet to continue.

"As you may have heard, there are Covenant warriors hold up in a nearby Forerunner tower," The Prophet began.

_(Are they involved? I believed the two Captain Ultras' disappearance to be the Demon's doing.)_ "I heard," nodded to confirm the Prophet's assumption. "I had means to speak to them on how they arrived on this Holy ring. But as you say, my attentions were warped to other matters."

The Prophet of Pity continued: "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—made moves before you, Fleetmaster, and sent the two Captain Ultras to commune with them. They have yet to return. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—admit that I made an error of judgment; I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—acted too hastily."

_(I did not suspect . . .)_ "Heretics," Vale concluded, rubbing his lower mandibles in a rhythmic pattern. Whenever he had to think hard, the Fleetmaster would rub his lower jaws to relax his thoughts.

The Prophet nodded. "Yes. But I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—believe that the Oracle that went through the portal earlier may be involved with the heretics."

_(An Oracle involved with heretics? How very surreal.)_ "Why would an Oracle commune with heretics?" Vale asked as he stopped rubbing his mandibles and began rubbing them together—another enjoyable motion.

"I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—don't know if what I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—suspect is accurate; it_ is_ a mere idea in a time where ideas are welcomed." The Prophet covered his mouth as he coughed before he continued: "But the Gods—the sacred and blessed Forerunners—have warnedme—the Holy Prophet of Pity—of a rogue Oracle. And the encountered Oracle of mention didn't resemble the Oracle class said to guard the sacred rings—not a 'Monitor'. This is possibly the rogue Oracle I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—was warned of by our Gods, and I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—suspect that this rogue Oracle has poisoned the heretic's minds."

"A misconception," Vale narrowed it down to one, single conclusion.

"Yes," the Prophet nodded, affirming Vale's conclusion. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—do believe that due to the budging factuality that these warriors have deigned to contact us even through our time here, it classifies them as heretics. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—also believe them to be sheltering the Demon."

_("Sheltering the Demon"? For what reason?)_ "Their minds are devastated by lies," Vale asserted. "How else would such heresy be possible for them?"

"It is a sad time," The Prophet agree. Vale saw through the false sorrow in his voice, but ignored it. "And I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—am afraid that their spots on the path to transcendence is lost due to their abandonment of the Covenant."

_(You don't care. Regardless, the Forerunners are truly error-prone to leave behind an Oracle of such a venomous nature.)_ "What is to be done? By law, this comes under your jurisdiction. I'll carry out what you recommend if I deem it a fit action."

The Prophet of Pity rested his head on his hand, sighing. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—advise that we quickly wipe them out. Any more attempts to negotiate with them may be met with more fatalities than needed. If your forces took them off-guard, casualties will be minimized. If we tried after an attempt to negotiate with them again, they might become aware. We must act_ now!_"

_(Agreed, I do not like it, but he is right. A rare quality of his.)_ "Very well," Vale knelt again. "I shall prepare a strike-force to end them quickly with honor and dignity."

"No, worthy Fleetmaster," the Prophet protested. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—do not wish to be the cause of such a horrific sin as to put Sangheili brother against brother—not when such an alternative is present. Allow me—the Holy Prophet of Pity—to utilize the Jiralhanae instead."

_(Your point holds merit . . . But I do not know if the Jiralhanae are respectful enough to refrain from brutalizing the heretics . . . But then, this is unavoidable . . . And the Jiralhanae are more likely to fail . . .)_ Vale wondered why the Prophet cared for what horrors Sangheili may face when crossing blades with fellow Sangheili. He didn't care; the Prophet didn't want Sangheili contact with the heretics. The Fleetmaster concluded as much, and realized what ultimate action he would have to take.

"A wise choice. I don't wish to subject those under my command to such a horror," Vale said, nodding in agreement. "But I ask that the Jiralhanae do this cleanly and with honor; the heretics shouldn't suffer any more than they have to."

The Prophet slid his neck back up from resting on his hand, studying Vale. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—completely agree. And for when we see the rogue Oracle again, I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—shall personally obliterate it for its high heresy and betrayal to the Forerunners. The Gods' warning will not go unanswered."

_(I doubt you can do what you say; you can't obliterate an Oracle without assistance. This impairs your statement. Oft is it that I get wrapped up in logical thinking.)_

Vale lowered his head to the Prophet in respect. "I will rally together a war council with Literus and my Commanders. I'll hear their opinions. Nonetheless, I have no lack of faith that these heretics will be dead by sunset."

_(I hope to the contrary, though. This goes deeper, doesn't it, Prophet of Pity? So much deeper . . .)_


	7. Second Act of Inconvenience

_I opened my eyes, and found myself sitting in a mowed field. I was on a planet whose name was a knowledge I envied to have. _

_Sitting next to me was the girl I loved most in the world. I also forgot her name, something that should never have happened. Her importance rivaled that of the name which gave the planet I sat on life. _

"_I'm scared," the young girl, barely out of her toddler years, said, a slight whimper to her voice._

_I knew why. Still, I asked, "What about?"_

_The girl sat up and looked at me; her eyes were watery. "You're going to the big city . . . without me." _

_Our bond was the strongest in the universe. "I will only be gone for two days," I tried to calm her down with a few reassuring words._

"_Why-why can I-I not go-go with you?" She began to cry._

_I had been asking myself the same question. "Don't worry, Nai," I walked on my knees over to her and pulled her in for a hug. "Nothing will ever separate us."_

_It was probably then that I jinxed it._

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Thel 'Lodamee)<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 5, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1214 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Forerunner Anti-Gravity Well Facility, Base of Forerunner Tower, Unknown Halo Installation****]**

* * *

><p>Thel 'Lodamee, not regarding the prior lead-ups, scrutinized those massing in the chamber that the Monarch's Parisidal resided in.<p>

A sum of the Ultra's forces were killed by Humans in the assault on the Monarch's facility on the planet the Demon designated "Atmosus". Only nine Kig-Yar, twenty-six Unggoy—save the one who died the previous night rotation—and fourteen Sangheili persisted to be by Thel's side.

To idolize the extensive alteration of the force's ideals, Thel, and his Sangheili advisors, agreed to the name "Diverted" for their association. Every last member of the Diverted, down to the last Unggoy, were present in the chamber; the Sentinels guarded the perimeter of the tower, and the Huragok was modifying equipment in the compound.

Thel theorized that the Monarch left command scripts with the Sentinels so that they could continue with their responsibilities. The Ultra fretted that the Sentinels were also at the Demon's disposal. In testament to a sheer contradiction aimed at Thel, the Demon's actions were passive-aggressive. The_ Human_ was leaning against a corner near the Monarch's Parisidal, scanning the Diverted gathering around him.

The Demon had recovered superbly from his wounds, and had grown comfortable around the Diverted; the Human no longer watched the every movement of the aliens around him. The Demon believed the Diverted reliable.

Thel had a strife with the Demon: he refused to sleep in the compound the previous night rotation. The Ultra had to accommodate the Demon, and allowed the Demon to retire in the central and only chamber of the anti-gravity well facility. Two Sentinels remained outside in the corridor leading up to the room for the Demon's safekeeping. Thel found the extra precautions strained too far.

The Demon's turmoil didn't stop with the exceptions. Thel had received word of a few Sangheili laying their swords down by the Demon's feet; the Ultra feared for their loyalty. The fact was ever present and stressing to Thel that not all of his warriors had denied the Forerunners as Gods.

Thel seated himself on his makeshift throne of wood, stones, and branches. He overlooked those who had assembled—not a single Diverted was absent. Urse 'Vadamee and Anve 'Lodamee were by Thel's side, and Rek 'Galravee was standing at the ramp leading up to the dais the Ultra's throne laid upon; Thel had a view of the entire chamber.

Thel decided to begin with the Unggoy and Kig-Yar's loyalty. He waited for the Unggoy and Kig-Yar to quiet down at the harsh snaps from the Sangheili. All were excited and eager to hear from Ultra Thel 'Lodamee. Thel was anxious as well, and twitched his mandibles as he began. "Brothers, but a devastating time is upon us. It is no mistake for me to assume that loyalties are being conflicted; I speak to the Unggoy and Kig-Yar. Your loyalties are to the greatest, and the highest bidder."

The Kig-Yar and Unggoy all looked at each other; they were suspicious of the other, and worried about being exposed. Thel couldn't tell which were guilty and which were innocent._ (All that matters in that they end their intentions to defect.)_ "If abandonment is a viable option for many of you of the lesser statue, I advise you against it," Thel continued. "The Prophet of Pity is well aware of us, and will spare no expense in filtering you from the primary ranks. Much to your disliking this may be, you_ must_ keep your faith in_ me_ alone—I am your best chance of survival."

The two species heeded the message clearly, and knelt in respect._ (So they are loyal . . . for now. Change is sudden—no rules deny such ruptures in continuation.) _

"Second matter," Thel said. "I understand that a brother Unggoy lost his life the last rotation. I understand why, and see the threats this has on who you vow loyalty to."

The Unggoy of topic died of starvation when it refused to eat the food offered for consumption. Even when the small creatures life depended on nourishment, it rejected to eat anything that was not its food nipple. More disturbingly enough, the Unggoy wasn't alone.

"There is naught I can do to save the Unggoy who damn themselves," Thel said sternly. "If you want to live, eat what we Sangheili offer."

Moans erupted throughout the room; the Unggoy weren't pleased with Thel's publication, but it would be a first for all if they argued further, to which they didn't.

"Third matter," Thel said. "And that matter is the Monarch, of whom I believe you will find is absent. I will explain why that is." Thel pushed out of his throne and stretched his neck. "We have little hope of escaping this ring without a vessel to transport us through the wind, and walking through the portal is not optional. Not for us, at least. To make contact with the Humans on the other side, the Monarch has gone through the portal. If the Monarch is fortunate in his pleas, then the Humans shall be here in an estimated fourteen rotations."

"What's the source of this estimation? Is it reliable?" a Kig-Yar asked.

"From our understanding of Human Void transcending, and the Monarch's own calculations from having a Sentinel scan a Human vessel."

"The Covenant fleet arrived in less than a rotation," a Sangheili named Jol 'Turasee noted. "And Human progress through the Void is always slow. There can be only one summing-up; one ultimate reasoning to the menace facing us now."

_(Halo is close to the home system of Atmosus.)_ Thel nodded. "The portal rests in the star system we were in not so long ago. I can only theorize that this system and this Halo are in a close proximity of one another. But to the fifth reason . . ."

Hot air was swelling in Thel's nose, and the Sangheili Ultra snorted it out; the air deflected from the interior of his helmet._ (Worst for last. What an original phrase.)_ "The fifth reasons is the Jiralhanae and how they affect us. I was captured—you know this. I was brought before the Prophet of Pity after I being found by two Jiralhanae."

Thel inhaled deeply before continuing._ (Being the bearer of bad news seems to be a standard employment of mine since the last segment.)_ "I confirmed that the Prophets are cognizant of Humanity's heritage. If only that were all. I believe that the Prophets are conspiring to replace the Sangheili with Jiralhanae—by force, undoubtedly."

Enraged, all Sangheili, and a sum portion accounting for half of the Kig-Yar and Unggoy, growled, and barked; their emotions were a mix with anger and confusion.

"The Jiralhanae are aware of this, and I have proof. Proof doesn't matter; you all trust me, I judge." Thel crossed his arms. "Logically, these beasts are no longer trustworthy and deserve the well-known slang Humanity has bestowed upon them. "Brutes" will be their official designation from this moment and until the expiration of the Diverted!"

The crowd approved, and expressed such; growls and barks of approval rang from the metal surfaces of the room and echoed in Thel's head. "I always hated hairy beasts!" a Unggoy barked; its comrades joined in with yaps of agreement.

Rek held his hand up, and the crowd calmed down. "As such," Thel continued, "it's ended that we must do this not only for this needless war, but for the survival of our entire race. We must stop the impending destruction at all costs to our own expenses!"

The Sangheili among the crowd slammed their fists on their chests in a unified fashion; whoever doubted Sangheili discipline needed only see what transpired in the chamber. There were none who challenged Sangheili integrity in advance to a display needing to commence as proof.

_(Sangheili. . . . There is one other means to commune with Vale.)_ Thel aligned his back and muscles; he stood as the largest animated being in the chamber. "We can only wait for the Monarch for so long. We must exercise different means of ending this war. One that's hazardous. I will, myself, barge into the Covenant base and demand an audience with the Fleetmaster; I will make so much noise that no Ministry that once owned me will be able to stifle me down."

Thel closed his eyes. The Ultra let the worried murmurs of his warriors enter his ears._ (I shall not return.)_ "If I don't return, Major Rek will take command."

Rek spun around but quickly calmed himself. He still judged Thel with his soft eyes as he eased up the ramp and knelt before the Ultra. "Brother, I am unworthy to take that office. I could not risk my life as valiantly as you. . . . I can't uphold your name-"

"You can," Thel placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're more than worthy-" Thel snapped his head to the doors when they_ hissed_ open, and a Sentinel floated into the chamber. The Demon had ordered that the Sentinels not disturb the meeting unless it was of the utmost importance that the termination of the assemblage mastered all goals.

Thel punctually hurried down the ramp and followed Rek as he led the Diverted from the chamber; everyone moved with an immediate intent to follow a procedure Thel set in place. The Ultra was impressed by the coordination, and hoped that the cooperation extended to any upcoming battle.

The door into the compound_ hissed_ open to the Huragok. The floating creature sped in and floated pass the Diverted and Demon, flailing its tentacles and crying in fear._ (Something is not right. Something is very wrong.)_

The group filed through the open doors and into the compound. It immediately became apparent when everyone's sight fell on eight Phantoms in the distant airspace—eight Phantoms on a heading to the tower.

"Phantoms!" Rek growled. "This is not negotiation party; has Vale failed to the Prophet?"

Thel gritted his mandibles. "The bastard Prophet must have lied a great deal to convince the Fleetmaster to instigate an offensive!"

It was not just the Phantoms alone. Four Wraiths saw themselves carted by an equal amount of Phantoms, and the other four dropships carried two Ghosts each—twelve, in conclusion. Each Phantom had two Banshees escorting them; the sum of which was sixteen collectively. A number all of the Diverted found unacceptable in their limited odds.

The Sentinels were already moving up to the perimeter walls. Their weapons would prove invaluable tactical allies—they could stun enemies and reinforce energy shields. But there were only six Sentinels; Thel wasn't pleased by the further limitations._ (This doesn't coincide with Vale's way of dealing with enemies when negotiations are an option staring him in the face. This goes against all sense, and is viciously dooming!) _

Thel spiraled around to address his warriors. His eyes fell on the Demon, who almost stood as tall as a Sangheili warrior. The size of the Demons was an intimidating factor Humans used against the Covenant.

"Demon," Thel pointed to the heavily armored Human cyborg, "tell the Sentinels to have one bolster my shields. Another three are to reinforce the other shields of Sangheili in need. The other two are to provide offensive support with their armaments."

The Demon nodded and walked through the crowd, to a Unggoy. "Hand me your Type-25 directed energy pistol immediately," the Demon commanded, holding his hand out to the Unggoy._ (Ah, smart—a commendable combo.) _

The Unggoy was about to faint, but reached its holstered plasma pistol and trembly handed it to the Demon. The Demon took the pistol, grabbed his small rapid fire weapon and tossed it aside before holstering his newly acquired weapon. The Unggoy wouldn't survive without a gun, so Thel grabbed his plasma rifle from his thigh and walked over to the Unggoy.

"Take it," Thel said; he held his weapon out for the Unggoy to take. Nervously, the small creature took it from Thel's claws and hefted it to bare in its enormous, ape-like arms.

Thel took a step back after the Unggoy took the weapon, and looked over his warriors before commencing. "Those with carbines and pulses rifles will occupy the towers with each having a supportive Lance of four Unggoy. The rest will take position on the walls. Sentinels will be on station if anyone equipped with a shielding device needs their shields reinforced."

Thel grabbed a carbine from a Sangheili that came up and handed him one. The Ultra then waited for the Sangheili Minor to retreat back into the ranks before continuing. "Keep your heads low, and ensure you make every life—save those of the Brutes—die with honor and dignity. Now, positions!"

Thel craned his head back around and sprinted for the wall with his warriors right behind him. The Demon was already sniping gunners on the Phantom with his rifle.

"Use all your efforts to support the Demon!" Thel called out as he approached the access ramps to the perimeter walls. "The Demon is the best asset against the Wraiths and Ghosts! His survival is paramount!"

The Ultra drew his carbine off of his back and practically leaped up the ramp and clambered over the edge where the wall connected with the ramp, and rose, gripping his carbine tightly.

"Stand fast, brothers!" Thel shouted, gritting his mandibles and raising his carbine at the approaching Phantoms, "for those blinded by the pathetic Prophet's lies seek to act on actions that will bring the end of everything!"

The Diverted chorused roars together while Thel just stood there, watching the approaching enemy through the carbine's scope.

After a few meres of a moment, Thel sighted an exposed Unggoy on a Phantom's bay turret—and fired a single green radioactive round . . .

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red-098)<strong>

* * *

><p>A carbine shot rang out across the compound; the sound ricocheted off of every solid surface in a radius of a hundred meters. The Ultra appeared out of the side of 098's vision, and another shot from his carbine sung out across the compound.<p>

098 added to the Ultra's shooting, and discharged his weapon at an exposed Grunt on a side turret of a Phantom's bays.

Two rounds left 098's DMR. The first bullet missed the Grunt Minor he was targeting by inches, but the second went straight through the alien's throat; a mist of blue blood appeared as the dead Grunt tumbled out of the bay.

"Contact on the left side of the fifth Phantom from the right eliminated!" 098 reported. He longed for an active COMM channel to commune with the Diverted over. To the Monarch's credit, he helped with this, and had the Huragok, Lighter Than Some, devise IFF tags between the Diverted and 098.

"Contact on the left side of the fourth Phantom from the right is eliminated!" 098 said as Grunt Major fell from another Phantom.

Every Grunt gunner 098 eliminated, another one took its place. But 098 found no concern about Covenant successive tactics; he was worried about a Banshee that was bearing on the perimeter walls at full speed.

_(Efficient strategy discovered)_ 098 slung his DMR over his back and drew his plasma pistol. With the weapon in hand, 098 expected the Banshee's pilot to spot him and disengage—but it did not. This mistake ultimately proved useful for 098; he charged up his plasma pistol, waited until his reticle turned red, and fired.

The Banshee attempted an evasive maneuver, but the energy bolt locked on and tracked it before slamming into its purple hull. The Banshee lost power, and went flying towards the walls. 098's plan's outcome didn't disappoint. The SPARTAN took his chance, holstered his pistol, and used all of his force to leap from the wall and onto the descending Banshee.

098 grabbed onto the Banshee's right wind and climbed to the cockpit as the Banshee regained its power. The pilot knew 098 was there and began spinning the Banshee around, trying to shake the SPARTAN off.

098's magnetic strips on his fingers came to life, and_ no_ spinning of the Banshee would disrupt him. 098 reached the cockpit and tightened his grip on the tear-drop shaped door before forcing it open.

The Banshee's locking systems were inadequate against 098's superior strength, and the door was ripped open, revealing a Brute Major. Being a Brute happened to be its downfall as there was too little room for the beast to move, and 098 just grabbed its hairy foot and pulled it out.

"I_ shall_ kill you, Demon!" The Brute roared, and tried to seize 098 and take the SPARTAN with it as it fell. 098 predicted this in advance, and snapped his combat knife from his pauldron's sheath and stabbed it into the Brute's thickly overlaid skull just as its head became visible. The knife's explicit accuracy accompanying 098's familiarity with the Jiralhanaes' anatomy saw the Brute's instantaneous death.

098 let the Brute fall before climbing into the cockpit of the now falling Banshee. Before the craft could collide with the ground, 098 took control, and yanked it back into the air—no later would've sufficed.

Now, with a Banshee in control, 098 descended towards the Phantoms. The dropships were already dropping off soldiers, which meant that 098 couldn't focus on them without getting targeted by hostiles with fuel rod cannons, plasma launchers, concussion rifles, plasma pistols, and bruteshots.

With all the anti-air weaponry, being utilized simultaneously with Banshees and Ghosts, 098's chances fell dimly. He wouldn't have a consistent amount of time before he would have to abandon the vehicle.

_(Ground forces are mandatory targets for longevity; switching assault plan.)_ 098 spun the Banshee around and set a course to engage the ground units.

098 opened fire on a Brute-led Grunt Lance. Plasma ripped through the flesh of a Brute Captain and promptly eliminated it while also killing three Grunts and a Jackal Minor. 098 also wounded a Brute Minor via the rapid plasma fire burning off one of its legs.

To dispatch the survivors of his salvo, 098 fired a plasma torpedo at the center of the scurrying Lance; the torpedo eliminated the wounded Brute, a Jackal Minor, and three Grunts. With the Lance driven out of function, 098 swiveled his Banshee to another one that was dividing to avert his fire.

098 went for the easy targets. He fired a burst of plasma at a Grunt Major and Minor before spinning around and shooting at a Brute Major who was covering two Grunts. The plasma melted through the Brute's thick hide, and it was dead in seconds.

In advance of his ability to redirect the Banshee, a Grunt Heavy fired a glowing green rocket from its fuel rod cannon. 098 found dodging the round to demand no less effort than a simple task, and maneuvered out-of-the-way; he cut the Heavy down after he regained control.

The final Grunt Ultra threw a plasma grenade that missed 098's Banshee by mere inches. Once the grenade had passed safely over the Banshee's starboard side, 098 blasted the Grunt apart with sustained plasma fire. Only the Grunt's methane tank remained out of the melted flesh and innards.

_(Rate of successful contact elimination sequential to engaging is below satisfactory levels.)_ 098 couldn't utilize the Banshee for much longer, and it offered too big a target. 098 cranked the vehicle around so it was facing a complete Covenant Lance, and set it on a collision course before disembarking.

098 hit the ground hard and succeeded a combat roll to decrease the impact and support his Hydrostatic Gel. The collision with the field didn't faze 098, and he leaped up from his roll and drew his DMR as the Banshee_ whirled_ into the Covenant Lance. An explosion, from the Banshee crashing, rang out, and shrapnel went flying everywhere; one large piece penetrated a nearby Jackal's lower chest.

098 slung his DMR over his back and charged towards the wounded and dazed Jackal; he grabbed the Jackal's throat and tightened his grip until a_ snap_ gave him all the clearance he needed to release his grip.

098 kicked the body aside and pulled his DMR from his back and fastened his aim to three fleeing Grunts—three shots, and three Grunts went tumbling across the blood covered grass. 098 had no time to marvel at his snap-shot efficiency before a circular tear of plasma, fired from a Wraith's mortar, got him moving.

_(Elimination from exposure is eighty-four percent—immediate evasive action is crucial.)_ 098 sprinted towards the perimeter wall and leaped; his movement and armor's enhanced momentum components allowed him to grab the ledge of the wall's border braces. 098 pulled himself up with the assistance of two Jackal Minors who grabbed his pauldrons and

helped him clamber over the wall's covers and onto the defensive lane. The SPARTAN reloaded his DMR and noticed a dead Elite Minor with a brute spiker projectile in its temple and neck along with a Grunt Ultra that suffered from a plasma burn to its chest.

_(Count two deceased allied Covenant forces.)_ 098 paid no more attention than needed to the dead Diverted soldiers, and returned his concentration to the offensive. 098 raised his DMR at a Lance on a heading to the frontal perimeter wall.

098 chose to lock onto a Brute Minor—and fired. The round hit the Brute in the forehead, but didn't expel its life—it did stun it, and 098 would take it as it was. The Brute staggered from the wound and the blood spraying from his damaged skull, and 098 let loose another round. The second bullet was more precise than the first, and the Brute's head imploded, sending blood, bone brittle and brain matter across the ground and its Lance members.

"Brute Minor is eliminated!" 098 declared; he shifted his aim, looking for another target.

The spraying blood from the Brute Minor had blinded a Jackal Minor that had dropped its carbine and was trying to clean its eyes out. A damned act; 098 didn't let the chance pass him by quietly, and targeted the Jackal's neck before firing. The Jackal's collar bone erupted; arteries sprayed purple blood from the wound, and an abundance of blood pooled from the Jackal's beak.

"Jackal Minor is eliminated!" 098 said.

Mortar fire from a Wraith hit the wall and sent a Grunt that was too close flying from the wall. 098 wasn't distracted; three more rounds from his DMR ended the lives of three more Grunts.

098 took cover behind the brace coverings to reload. The SPARTAN took his near empty clip out and stored in into his reserve pouch before grabbing another full clip from his ammo belt and slamming it into his DMR and released a round into the chamber.

098 heard an Elite roar in pain, and peered over to see one of the Ultra's Minors, who always guarded him, was being riddled with needler projectiles

A Sentinel raced over to reinforce the Minor's shields, but it was too late; the pink shards were making connection with the Elite's flesh.

"Brother!" the Ultra exclaimed as the Minor threw himself from the walls and into a Lance of Covenant soldiers. The Lance attempted to flee as the Minor_ smashed_ devastatingly onto the blood soaked ground and exploded into flesh and purple shards moments later. His last-ditched sacrifice eliminated a significant portion of the Lance, and made his death one not of vain.

_(Count one friendly casualty.)_ 098 acted to preserve the Minor's legacy, and rose out of cover to finish the Covenant Lance off. A Brute Ultra Captain that was missing both of its legs and a Grunt Ultra missing its left arm in addition to an intact Jackal and Grunt were all dropped with precise headshots.

"You'll be remembered, brother," an Elite Minor next to 098 said sadly and quietly; the two Jackals next to it chirped remorsefully.

Another Wraith fired another plasma round, drawing 098's attention as it slammed into an intersection tower and hit Major Rek 'Galravee dead- on. The mortar flung the Major from the tower with his entrails slinging out of his mangled stomach.

_(Casualty rate will persist in rising—Wraiths mandatory target.)_ "Those equipped with long-range weaponry are to direct all fire to Wraith turret gunners," 098 ordered the Elite Minor; he slung his DMR over his back, drew his plasma pistol and M6D, and leapt from the perimeter wall.

Instead of landing on the ground, 098 landed on the head of a Brute and somersaulted off of the head as it snapped backwards from the force, and shot down two screaming Grunts and a Jackal while he was in midair before landing on the ground and skidding around to take out a Grunt Major that was at the Lance's rear.

098 failed to enter a sprint when two Banshees swooped down on him, firing at him. 098 rolled from the plasma fire course, charged up his plasma pistol, and let the glowing ball of crackling energy free, which went flying towards the left Banshee.

A Ghost tried to ram 098 before the second Banshee could become his target, but 098 jumped over it a second before it hit him, turned in midair whilst holstering his pistols and drawing his combat knife, and landed on the Ghost's rear.

The Brute Ultra, who piloted the Ghost, turned in its seat and watched with shock in its beastly eyes as 098 stabbed his combat knife into the left of those eyes. Once it was dead, 098 retracted his combat knife, sheathed it and pushed the Brute from the seat before climbing into where the Brute sat moments ago, and taking control. 098 shifted the Ghost into full speed towards a Brute Captain, who went smashing into the perimeter wall when rammed by 098's newly acquired Ghost.

Once all that remained of the Brute Captain was a crumbled body and a smear of pinkish blood on the wall, 098 spun the Ghost around and fired at an influx of several Lances gathering around him; two Jackals and a Grunt Minor fell.

The sound of a Banshee's elegant flying and a less than elegant plasma torpedo being fired from the receptive end had 098 quickly leaping from the Ghost moments before the green death-ball slammed into the Ghost. The Ghost exploded into blue flames, and shrapnel flew in every conceivable direction, including towards 098.

With his back to the explosion, a lump of shrapnel tore into 098's back and sent him flying forward a few meters. The Hydrostatic Gel prevented the impact from doing any lethal damage.

098 landed on the groun_d_, and was momentarily stunned; his back ached from the pierced flesh. The SPARTAN didn't recover in time, and a Brute grabbed him by his neck, lifted him up to eye-view, and roared into 098's helmet before using a familiar ragdoll strategy, and throwing 098 to the right.

098 spun as he flew, landing in a combat roll and skidding around, grabbing and raising his M6D to the Brute; a large bloody hole in its head was the consequent to the Brute's misjudgment.

Another Banshee launched another plasma torpedo that 098 side-stepped before pulling the shrapnel from his back and slinging it towards screeching Jackal. The long, thin piece of the Ghost's engine went straight through the Jackal's head and sent it flying into the new purple pool of its own blood.

Next were the Wraiths—098's preliminary targets. He broke into a sprint towards one, but it saw him coming, and sped up to ram the SPARTAN. 098 predicted this in advance, and leaped into the air, his jump overreaching the Wraith's height. 098 spun in midair and landed on the Wraith's rear; the adrenaline-fuelled SPARTAN pulled a fragmentation grenade from his belt and smashed it into the Wraith's rear exhaust coil.

098 leaped off of the Wraith's rear, did a backward combat roll and watched the Wraith explode before him. The spectacle was of no real excitement to the SPARTAN, who shifted his attention to another Banshee on an interception course with him. 098 ran for cover behind the Wraith's wreckage, and drew his plasma pistol, ready to continue his baddassery.

"DEMON!" the Ultra roared across the battlefield, completely alarmed by what his eyes beheld. "BEHIND YOU!"

098 peered out from behind the wreckage to see two Scarabs crawling down the distant cliffs._ (Two counts of a Type-47 Ultra Heavy Assault Platform. Role: heavy assault vehicle, mobile command post, mining platform. Length: forty-eight meters. Width: thirty meters. Height: twenty meters. Known armaments: plasma beam, one anti-aircraft turret, three Type-52 Directed Energy Support Weapons. Threat level is high; evasive action mandatory.) _

098 raised his plasma pistol at an attacking Banshee, charged up a glowing green bulb, and fired as the Banshee attempted to spin clear of the plasma ball—too no avail. It lost power and descended towards 098 who leaped onto its wing as soon as it was close enough; his magnetic strips on his fingers took effect, and he released any stress he had of falling off.

The Brute pilot calculated its chances on shaking off 098, and found them to be dismaying for any attempt. In lieu of any plan, the Brute dismounted the Banshee—which fully powered down—and moved to grab 098 off of the wing. The SPARTAN played it safe until the Brute grabbed his shoulder, and 098 grabbed his combat knife, and in an almost instantaneous move, swiped it around, slitting the beastly alien's throat.

Blood bubbled from the Brute's snout, and it gurgled a curse as it slumped to the ground. 098 left it to bleed out, sheathed his knife, and crawled into the Banshee's cockpit. His new destination was the perimeter wall, and he set a course straight for it.

A Banshee was pursuing 098, but was disabled by a Diverted Grunt's plasma bolt as 098 flew his piloted aerial craft over the walls and brought it down to land on the chiselled strip of a path that led up to the door of the tower's anti-gravity facility.

098 disembarked, and noticed a nearby Diverted Jackal Major that was missing both of its legs, and had a gaping hole in its stomach that revealed its intestines and other internal organs that 098 only partially recalled from his research on the anatomy of the Covenant species.

Still alive, the Jackal held its hand out for 098 to help it.

_(Survival probability is zero percent. Mercy kill is viable.)_ 098 grabbed his M6D and raised it down at the alarmed Jackal. 098 took in the Jackal's screeches for him to stop as he fired a round into its face; its brain exploded in its head, and what could, exited with the bullet onto the pavement.

"Ultra!" 098 called out, holstering his M6D and turning to the walls, "I need an Elite that is skilled in commandeering a Phantom."

The Ultra switched from targeting Covenant hostiles and pointed to an Elite Minor before motioning to 098. "Anve, go with him. Do as he says."

"I comply, brother," Anve said as he sprinted down the ramp and towards 098.

"Hold tight," 098 said, tossing Anve his plasma pistol and embarking the Banshee again.

"Don't knock me off," the Elite replied as he grabbed onto the Banshee's right wing; he stabilized himself by placing his hoof on the wing's lower canard.

098's plan would now enter its primary stage. And luckily for him and the Diverted, Phantoms were continuing to drop of reinforcements—there was no abundance of escape vessels.

_(Accessible EVAC vehicle locked down for engagement. Moving to intercept.)_ 098 flew the Banshee from the compound and back into the battlefield's airspace. Anve held tightly onto the wing, and worried of the SPARTAN's capabilities. His concerns demolished when a Banshee descended on them.

"Stay straight! A Banshee is on us!" Anve called to 098 as the Elite charged up the plasma pistol 098 gave to him, and steadied his aim.

The targeted Phantom's side gunners began firing plasma at 098's Banshee, but were quickly dealt a striking blow when Diverted Elites and Jackals sniped the Grunts manning the turrets.

Anve got a lock on the attacking Banshee, and let the plasma burn through the air and smash into the aerial vehicle. The assailant's aircraft rippled with sparks of rogue energy as it fell from the sky and crashed into the battlefield below.

"The Banshee is disabled!" Anve reported as 098 flew their Banshee over the upper hull of the Phantom and lowered the craft to a hover over it.

"Dismount!" 098 ordered. The SPARTAN raised his cockpit's door and dropped down onto the Phantom's round, smooth top; the magnetic strips on his boots kept him from stumbling off.

"Now what?" Anve said as he landed next to 098; the Elite steadied himself to a stand and eagerly awaited an answer to his question.

circling the Phantom they were on was another Banshee that fired a burst to take them off.

"Damn!" Anve exclaimed before raising his plasma pistol, charging it, and let it wreak havoc on the opposition, disabling the attacking Banshee.

Before more Banshees could target them for an intercept mission, 098 drew his M6D, and slid down the side of the moving Banshee and dropped down into the bay of the dropship.

The Phantom was full of Brutes, Jackals, and Grunts who were none the pleased to see 098. The SPARTAN wasted no time opening fire on the most lethal targets first; all were lethal, but the Brutes posed the biggest threat.

The Grunts screamed in terror as their Brute leaders went stumbling; they were either dead or disorientated from 098's pin-point accuracy.

Anve grunted as he landed next to 098 and immediately activated his energy sword and charged into the fray. The Elite slashed down every Grunt, Jackal, and Brute in his way—he essentially twirled around in a ring with his energy sword extended.

The Covenant load were caught off-guard by Anve and 098; they all fell to the combined assault of the two. 098 continued turning heads into platters of gore while Anve roared and sliced down every moving target save 098.

098 sent a bullet the way of a Brute Minor who attempted to flank Anve, ending its life before the SPARTAN moved to the Phantom's cockpit.

The Phantom's Brute co-pilot heard the commotion, and was exiting the cockpit when 098 appeared in the entrance and kicked the Brute square in the chest, sending it flying down the ramp that connected the cockpit to the bay before 098 fired several rounds into its chest.

"_What_?!" The Brute pilot turned in its seat and barked in alarm as 098 fired two bullets into the Brute's head; its brain matter and blood were sprayed all over Phantom's controls.

"That felt_ good_," Anve said sadistically, coming up behind 098 and sitting down at one of the pilot's seats.

"To the Diverted. I'll deal with the Wraiths," 098 ordered, heading to the exit of the cockpit and back into the bay.

"A quantity of plasma launchers are at your disposal!" Anve called out.

"Affirmative!" 098 called back, kicking a Grunt's body off a plasma launcher. "Raise the bay doors!"

Phantoms had gaps in the bay doors so soldiers could man turrets positioned near the massive, curved bay doors. This modeling ensured offensive abilities while retaining defensive capabilities. 098 kicked the right bay turret from its tripod and crouched where the weapon was seconds earlier, hefting the plasma launcher to aim as the door around him lifted down.

The two Scarabs were getting closer; a third had just appeared over the cliffs. 098 locked onto a Wraith and waited for the plasma launcher's reticle to go red. The Wraiths were still bombarding the compound, so 098 needed to act fast.

"Demon, I'm in the compound and have activated the gravity lift! I'm preparing an exit trajectory as we speak!" Anve called out as 098 fired four glistening balls of blue energy at one of the many Wraiths.

"Acknowledged!" 098 called back, taking in the sight of his targeted Wraith exploding; several Grunts surrounding the Wraith went flying as a wave of explosions washed over them like a tide washing sand from a beach.

A Banshee rained plasma down onto 098's position; 098 switched his attention to his new opponent.

"GET UP THERE!" the Ultra roared from below the Phantom. 098 charged up his plasma launcher, and fired another four plasma balls; three of the rounds made contact with the Banshee with the fourth missing but taking out a Covenant Lance, killing two Grunts and a Brute.

"Please make room so I can assist you, Reclaimer," an Elite Minor said. 098 complied and moderately moved so the plasma launcher wielding Elite could squat next to him.

"Taking the left Wraith," the Minor declared, charging his plasma launcher and firing four shots of devastation.

"We're all in!" The Ultra called to Anve, running into the cockpit.

098 spared a moment, and turned his head to assess the survivors. Four of the six Sentinels and Lighter had made it, but the Diverted suffered worse, and their numbers were dwindling; seven Grunts, two Jackals, and three Elites—not including the Ultra and Anve—were left.

There were also no seriously injured Diverted warriors; those too wounded to walk by themselves were put down.

After a glimpse, 098 returned his considerable notice to the battlefield that was now becoming a distant environment ravaged by war. The pursuers consisted of what Phantoms and Banshees remained.

098 charged his plasma launcher, and he fired two plasma rounds at one Banshee, and the other two at the a second.

"Will we ever loose them?!" The Minor, assisting 098, ground its mandibles together as vigorously as it could—the Elite being irritated would be an understatement.

The two final Elite Minors knelt down in proximity to 098 and the assisting Minor. One wielded a plasma launcher; the other handled a fuel rod cannon.

"We have the turrets working!" Anve called out; 098 spotted explosive purple rounds being fired at the pursuers from the hijacked Phantom.

098 grabbed two EMP grenades from his belt, and tossed them towards a squad of Banshees. The grenades managed to disable three Banshees when they detonated.

"Keep it up," a Minor encouraged, firing his plasma launcher's charged capacity. "The Banshees are dying down. Switch to the Phantoms—I shall deal with what remains of the Banshees."

"Affirmative," 098 replied, shifting his aim to the three pursuing Phantoms. "Target the heavy plasma auto-cannons for attack—they're a priority one target."

With their combined fire, the turrets of the Phantoms were either disabled or destroyed. It would required much more patience to destroy the Phantoms—but they wouldn't need to.

"Sentinels," one of the Minors pointed to a swarm of the synthetic entities de-cloaking around the airspace. "Hundreds of them." The Sentinels swarmed the Phantoms, attacking the dropships with their lasers and carving apart the Phantoms with precise targeting and accurate vital recognition.

"Cease fire," 098 told the Elites, lowering his plasma launcher.

"Are they of the Oracle of this Halo?" a Minor asked.

"They are not the Monarchs, for sure," another Minor said, rubbing his lower mandibles with his free hand; his upper mandibles twitched in appreciation to the attention.

The three Phantoms went from fully-fledged, curved, smooth purple aerial vehicles of a dropship functionality, to chunks of exploding metal in a matter of minutes, thanks to the Sentinels. Once the Phantoms and Banshees resided to the list of the damned, the Sentinels retreated back into the distant mountains; a few remained to escort the captured Phantom.

"Demon!" The Ultra called from the cockpit. "Come here!"

098 handed his plasma launcher to one of the Elite Minors, stood up, and made his way to the cockpit.

098 didn't know the name of each Diverted soldier; he only marked them each as an ally on his HUD, and didn't go to the lengths of inputting all of their names. He knew the names of the Ultra and the late Rek 'Galravee from their armor of rate.

"Baddies gone?" a Grunt Minor sitting in the corner to the left of the cockpit's entrance asked 098.

_(Affirmative.)_ 098 nodded and continued into the cockpit; the Grunt let out a sigh of relief as the SPARTAN eased over the corpse of the Brute co-pilot.

"You require my assistance?" 098 asked the Ultra as he approached him and Anve at the Phantom's controls.

"Which way are the Sentinels going?" The Ultra asked, clattering his mandibles as he vented air loudly from his flaring nostrils.

"Towards the East; towards the mountains in the East," 098 said.

"Then we shall go that way," the Ultra said. "Hopefully the Monitor of this Installation is in that direction. If not, then the mountains may shelter us from any pursuing party."

"Do you require further assistance?" 098 asked, getting impatient.

The Ultra let out a sigh from under his helmet. "No."

098 turned to exit the cockpit when the Ultra called after him: "Demon."

098 turned back around; the Ultra hadn't turned his attention away from the Phantom's controls. "Yes?" the SPARTAN asked.

"You fought well this rotation," the Ultra said lightly. "You have my respect."

_(An irrelevant emotion.)_ "Respect of allies is a trivial blemish on duty—for me."

"How very tormented," the Ultra murmured.

The Elites would never understand 098—he knew they couldn't comprehend Human perspectives. And the SPARTAN had no care for what they thought of him, or if they tried to understand him. But he despised their comparisons between him and Humans—098 wasn't Human, much against the evidence_ against_ his ideals.

Unlike the rest of the SPARTANs, 098 actively sought the destruction of his Humanity; he embraced being trained like a machine, which worried doctor Halsey and Chief Petty Officer Mendez.

Initially, Halsey didn't believe 098 when he came to her and told her that he didn't want the Human treatments extended to the trainees extended to him. The doctor thought 098 was merely acting negatively to his early indoctrination.

This hypothesis proved to be one of the rare times Halsey was ever wrong. 098 attested that he had no Human emotions in the most violent of options open to him.

Breaking into the armor and stealing an M6 pistol was easy. Breaking out of the base was less easy. Surviving until he came across civilization was harder—but once 098 found the small city he was looking for, he knew what he had to do.

Determined to show Halsey that he was right; that he had no emotions to speak of, he found a nearby pet story and slaughtered everything there—animal or Human.

The amount that Naval Intelligence expended to covering up what 098 did was of a magnitude that very much warranted the punishments he received at the hands of Mendez—but 098 found it worth-while. The other SPARTANs refused to acknowledge 098; the young boy that was 098 became an outcast and lost any social skills he had.

But Halsey never thought of 098 as a Human again—more of a monster. 098 slaughtered people and animals alike; ended dozen of lives in the sole attempt to spite Halsey. She took everything he ever cared about away, and wanted to make him a machine, but maintain a sense of Humanity to appease her own subconscious guilt.

098 proved that not even the great and powerful Halsey could have everything her own way.

But he added another demon to his mind . . . A figure of hatred. . . . But_ was_ it 098 that murdered those people?

Or something more _sinister_?


	8. An Abnormal Specimen

**[PERSONAL RECORDING—Number: 0-1-7-3]**

**[Dr. Catherine .E. Halsey—SN: CC-409871]**

**[27/09/2519, 0924 Hours]**

**[CLASSIFIED—ONI-SEC-PRTCL-1A]**

**(...[RECORD—BEGIN]...)**

_I have underestimated Red's commitment to go against me in every conceivable way; his determination to contradict me is thorough and extensive beyond any measures that are . . . normal for children of his age. _

_I have previously recorded my thoughts on Red and his emotional spiralling. I've expressed my concern for his . . . enigmatic trends in such a rate that it almost seems routine. I should have taken more liberty to consolidate Red._

_My concerns about him being violent—even hostile—were solidified when he broke into the base's armory and . . . stole a M6C defence weapon system, two weeks ago. . . . Subsequently, Red utilized non-lethal takedowns to carve his way from the base. _

_Perhaps Mendez is teaching the children martial arts too soon. . . . Five guards were engaged and eliminated by Red—none have severe wounds. But their pride's hurt. I'm worried what they may do to Red in any future time. . . . _

_It still takes me on a detour of consideration over the SPARTANs—or just Red, maybe. I was aware that Mendez was training them in physical combat. . . . But I was unaware that certain courses of a solid consistency were attained by the SPARTANs._

_Red endured the harsh wilderness of Reach for one and a half weeks before stumbling across the small city of Tez where he located a localized pet store and proceeded to kill everything there—Human and animal. _

_Red couldn't have had a sensitivity to be able to commit such atrocities. . . . I put in firm a test where I bought in a dozen animals of a minimal age and allowed the children to have a few sessions with them. None displayed any tendencies opposing that of just doing what any kid would do with cute animals._

_So, this makes Red's slaughter all the more interesting. . . . His innocence had seen itself out the door a long time ago; what remains of his child-like mind had disappeared and has been replaced with something far worst—and it's contradicting my very goals. _

_Fortunately, this slaughter was undertaken by Red at nightfall—whether he waited for the time to strike is debatable, and I may try to expose his strategy. But due to his timing, publicity of this incident was minimal, and Red remained anonymous._

_I got on top of the situation before details entered the public domain, and I delivered an alibi to the local police department. They didn't raise any questions. _

_Still, the amount I had to do to protect him—to protect the Program . . . I do not pity the punishment he is receiving from Mendez. And the punishment is bad and unethical; I could hardly recognize Red's face when I spoke to him earlier._

_For the sake of his efficiency, I'll have to get Mendez to cease._

_Speaking of talking with Red, it has proven to be insufficient in lengths; Red only talks when I order it of him—simply asking a question is inefficacious and irrelevant. . . . I won't stop. I need to break through whatever barrier he has enveloping him. _

_But he's mad at me, of course. And I believe he did this atrocity to make a very clear and disturbing point to me. . . . He did this to spite me—it makes perfect sense, and I won't take any other excuse._

_I-I admit . . . I confess that I wanted to keep the SPARTANs' Humanity integral . . . for as much myself as for them. But Red is aggressively exhibiting a persona I have to compare to be as much like a machine as a Human can reach. He is acting this way to attack me personally. . . . He resents me for not initially understanding or believing him. _

_I refuse to believe those peoples' blood is on my hands, though. No one could've anticipated Red's actions._

_I don't feel that guilt; I have another. The SPARTANs are acting less and less like young children. . . . Red, in particular, is a peculiar embodiment of everything I didn't want to happen. . . . He speaks using militaristic vernacular far too much, and his voice is almost devoid of emotion. _

_Red is embracing this lifestyle I have subjected him to because he has a negative disposition towards me for removing the comfort of his old life. . . . He hates me for taking him away from his family—no surprises, but the guilt is setting in. . . . This is necessary for Humanity's preservation._

_To protect Humanity, I need to break Red. . . . My methods of indoctrination have seen no impact on him. Where he goes, he goes himself. His barrier is existent because, unlike the other SPARTANs, he hasn't given up on his family to serve the better of Humanity. . . . _

_Red remains self-aware of his past life; he still has a connection to his family . . . I know how._

**(...[RECORD—END]...)**

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 5, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1434 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Forerunner Anti-Gravity Well Facility, Base of Forerunner Tower, Unknown Halo Installation****]**

* * *

><p>The battlefield held no differentiable features to set it apart from an uncovered burial site; bodies, weapons, and vehicle wreckages littered the field like misplaced waste—a major crime in Covenant disposal legalizations.<p>

It was not just the field. The compound's perimeter wall was discolored from its natural silver hue and besmirched with splatters of different colored blood and the marks of plasma scorches and projectile impact._ A necessary sacrifice_, Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee thought when his two orange eyes first fell on the wall's state.

The tower itself suffered only a Banshee crashing into it, but internal damage was a possibility. To seek out any potential survivors, Vale had tasked a Jiralhanae team with securing the tower's internal passageways and taking captives who they could if there was at all survivors.

The battlefield and the disaster that blanketed it stood as Vale's primary concern. Unggoy, Kig-Yar, and Jiralhanae bodies laid dormant, in abundance and bloodied, some not whole and some buried in the unturned soil. All the Wraiths from the preliminary vehicle detachment had been destroyed by the Demon with the support of the heretics. One would be inane to assume that the battle went in the favor of the Covenant. The implemented strategies were ill-suited for the operation, and the timing was not consummate.

The tactics were improper for the objective, and surprises were copious. The entire agglomerative of the Banshees and the Phantoms they escorted chased after the Phantom the Demon and heretics seized. Destruction came to the pursuit after; how the destruction came bemused Vale. Hundreds of Sentinels swarmed the aerial pursuance and assisted the adversary. They left only bodies and rubble awaiting collection.

All died at Vale's accord—as planned.

Vale lamented his decision, but reality was reality. The same reality became his realm when a Phantom_ roared_ over his head. The Fleetmaster watched as the dropship flew across the expanse covering the space between Vale and the Forerunner tower. It soon lowered itself over the compound's walls and came to a hover above the center courtyard. When it ceased to move moments later, the Phantom's gravity lift glistened to life, and a crystalline purple cylinder connected the dropship's bay to Halo's surface.

_(Has the Prophet of Pity arrived?)_ The Prophet of Pity and his escort of six Honor Guards drifting down the Phantom's gravity lift confirmed Vale's inner wonderment.

_(Excellent. I have means to speak with the Holy Prophet.)_ "Lance, remove the bodies of the fallen from the Holy Prophet of Pity's path." Vale gave a wave of his gloved hand, twirling his fingers to multiply the order's importunity.

The Lance of eight Sangheili assumed their assignment with a sense of pride and compassion exclusive to Sangheili. They dragged the bodies to part a path. The Zealot, Var 'Lultamee, did not; he always remained by Vales side where he would input his advice.

Var chose now to advise Vale. "Two Captain Ultras walk by his side." Var pointed to the additive two Ultra Captains that accompanied Pity and his six Honor Guards down the gravity lift. There was no breach of protocol; the Jiralhanaes' presence was licit but obsolete when the Honor Guards were attending. The Captain Ultras handled the Prophet of Pity's internal affairs; escorting was a task they would only undertake at Pity' behest.

_(He has already replaced the two missing Captain Ultras; did he have two substitutes at hand? How much faith do the Prophets put into the Jiralhanae?)_ Vale was rightly concerned. The Prophet of Pity had already attempted a negotiation effort with the heretics without Vale's consent. And the exact magnitude of the transactions the Prophet of Pity headed remained concealed by the political shield the Prophet held.

Var was also upset—rather annoyed over worried. He clenched his mandibles tight enough that his teeth ground against one another. "The barbarians are too close. They are_ too_ close to the Prophet of Pity." Var hissed, sharing the agitation that several surrounding Sangheili patrols held; all looked at the spectacle; all disapproved.

_(They only find them a security risk because they hate them.)_ The hatred Sangheili had for Jiralhanae had seen itself removed from proportion. Var despised the species more so than most Sangheili Vale had the liberty to know. But he was also one of the most violently impressive Sangheili Vale knew.

Var held an imposing demeanor. He stood at nine feet; his height was an oversaturated weapon. Intimidation was effective against most forces of the Covenant, and Var was a master of intimidation. Even Vale would not cause any trivial contestation.

Var's armor contributed significantly to his statue. Akin to the standard Zealot armor, his attire was gold with crimson trimmings, inscriptions, and engravings. And to bestow independence among his peers, Var wore a cerise cloak that pinned over his left arm and concealed the energy sword sheathed on his left thigh. With the weapon hidden, assassins would be taken by surprise if they launched an attack. Vale was secure around Zealot Var.

"They stride by his side as if they were equal to us," Var continued his rambling, snapping and clicking his mandibles to produce sounds that would further bring his words to light. "Why do the Prophets place so much trust in such barbaric animals?"

_(The present has lost attention to this distraction.)_ Vale craned his head around to face the Zealot. The_ clanking_ of the armor plating layering Vale's neck caused Var to swing his head gently around to face his superior. He was aware of the coming mesh of negation and never had he wanted to retrace his words into a more formal pattern.

"Do you judge them because of their culture?" Vale asked. "I have seen a Jiralhanae warrior fight with as much devotion and honor that a Sangheili warrior holds. But you would have it that all live up to a taxonomic mentality. This perception is a blinding outlook."

"Do the honorable overtake the savage?" Var countered decorously. "I do not think so—and by what is logical, the majority overrules the minority."

_(That is not logic you speak, brother. You speak with a misconception of what is fact.)_ Var existed as one of the few Sangheili that ever questioned Vale and his logic.

"If that is your logic, I will not deny it," Vale said indifferently. "But I will extend to you my take of your logic."

"Go on," Var urged, eager to hear his superior's words, and picking up on Vale's intent to have a friendly conversation.

"The honorable Humans exceed the savage sum," Vale said, clicking his mandibles sedately with his words to explicit the fear he did not have when he spoke heterodoxy.

"Easy, brother." Var grinned but retained his disconcert at Vale's words. "What you say is potent with peril. Were it anyone_ other_ than me, your words would likely reach the Prophet of Pity's ears, and then disaster would follow suite."

_(I think not.)_ "Respect for one's enemy is a vibrant part of our culture," Vale said. "Publicly, has it been announced that a minority of Sangheili fight Humans with more than an ablaze passion for their disintegration?"

"Yes."

"Then fear not. By the way, I have said so much more noxious words in the presence of the Prophet of Pity."

Var snorted, rubbing his temples as if the humor of Vale's words was harming his head. "Is that the cause to the detonative jargon that comes from his accommodations?"

_(That is for others to hear? Loud is it so?)_ "Yes," Vale nodded, swirling his head back around to gaze upon the forthcoming Prophet and his escort. "We disagree on much, but we stand united when the time demands coherency," Vale finished the conversation, having a conclusive aura to his pitch and clicks.

With his head now clear, Vale studied the Prophet of Pity and his escort. They were clear of the compound's entrance and were starting up the range with a steady pace.

Vale had only ever seen the Prophet of Pity on his anti-gravity throne that was intemperately embellished with aureate accoutrements—as was the Prophet himself. He wore a small golden diadem emitting holographical symbols, and his red coat had glowing blue fixings to add a illustration of exoticness. Vale found he was beyond the necessity with his attire; not even the holy Hierarchs wore robes with fluctuating lights as an accessory. Additionally, the bristles on the Prophet's wattles were finely clipped, and gemmed earrings hung off the appendages on the side of his head.

Var, not noticing Vale's attention on Pity, snapped his mandibles together, magnetizing Vale's attention. "You have me worried, brother. The Prophet of Pity is volatile; he hates you_ immensely_, and I fear the worst."

A hum of reassurance left Vale's throat. He said, "I appreciate your care, but fear not. I am too valuable for the High Council to heed Pity and discard me. Such is not a threat as long as the Prophet of Pity holds no influence with the Hierarchs."

"You may_ yet_ be wrong," Var warned.

_(That would be a first. I welcome it but fear it.)_ "And how frequently am I opposite in my assumptions?" Vale asked, his tone slightly indicating a joke. "Hardly. I would be dead if my verbal choices offended too far."

The realization dawned brightly on Var: He was not going to succeed in his argument. His neck shuddered; his mandibles munched together in irritation of not holding his words. Var was proud, but his pride impeded his efforts to question Vale to an exceptional limit.

_(His stubborn attitude can rival an Unggoy's.)_ "You place too much concern in that which is not in dispute," Vale said. "But then, that is prospective. Is it not something to occupy all your mind's space?"

"The Great Journey," Var said tonelessly. "It's the center of our being, but it lasts only as an ideology."

"I follow the Great Journey only as a theological virtue," Vale said. "It doesn't dictate me. I am from_ Sanghelios_' womb. I serve the Covenant as demanded of my race, and as penalty for our once violent ways of life. We toil gracefully to forget that_ we_ aggravated the San'Shyuum into drafting us into their fold."

"You continue to see the world like that, and it is what makes you more than your sum," Var said respectively but keeping to his sentiment. He watched the Prophet of Pity and his escort; they were just out of the proximity of hearing the duo. "We should end this topic."

Vale hummed agreeably, watching his Lance hurry around the Prophet's escort and back behind their leader, skidding to a stop and turning about to be at full attention for the Prophet of Pity.

"O' so_ worthy_ Fleetmaster!" the Prophet of Pity greeted with a parted gestured, bringing his throne to a stop diametrical to Vale and his subordinates. "I—the Holy Prophet of_ Pity_—apologize for this intrusion on military affairs." Pity gestured apologetically, a motion of placing his hand over where his heart resided. "But this was merited. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—seek to discover the_ cruel_ fate of my Jiralhanae Captain Ultras."

_(No. A task such as this would not sway you from your personal duties.)_ "I have appointed a team to secure the tower's inner foundations. They will alert me if they find the bodies of the Captain Ultras. And this is all I can do; other matters do demand my attention. But they_ will_ be found."

The Prophet sighed and idly ran a hand along the lineament of his jaw. "This is just a tragic consequence. So avertible, yet_ so_ natural when Demons—_enemies_ of the Great Journey—are involved; they inherit evil, and uphold Humanity's ambition to_ defy us_!"

"The Demon will die. It cannot stand firm against the Covenant forever," Var assured the Prophet of Pity. He was solicitous if he misplaced his words, but he wanted to make himself known to the Prophet.

He did. "_SILENCE_!" Pity shrieked, simultaneously slamming his hand down onto his throne's armrests. "You speak out-of-place, minor! You speak in the presence of a_ holy Prophet_, and you sicken me—the Holy_ Prophet_ of Pity—with your arrogance!"

_(Var has no arrogance. Here lays an inversion.)_ "Prophet of Pity—this is unacceptable. I implore you to cease this enmity towards Zealot Var 'Lultamee—he is, to the highest degree, my most trusted warriors—"

"SILENCE, FLEETMASTER!" Pity screamed defiantly. Spittle blew with his breath, further making him entitled to be classified as a juvenile yet to mature for any alternative entitlement. "_This_ Zealot is too_ lesser_ to be in my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—audience—let alone_ speak_ to me as if he were_ equal_! Pathetic—_shameful_ display, this is!"

_(There is no argument for equality.)_ Vale moved with haste to settle the Prophet down with a logical disputation—albeit, logic was not welcome. "I must protest, holy Prophet. You are utterly erroneous. All those who serve the Covenant with faith and loyalty find themselves on the divine path where all are equivalent."

"Your words are_ nothing_ but pain for me—the Holy Prophet of Pity." The Prophet massaged his lineament, twirling his slender fingers to a melody of friction. "My—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—word is_ final_. I will see that this Zealot faces _for execut_ion for his haughtiness!"

"You have_ no_ right!" Var objected, stamping his hoof down, an declaration that no one was going to approach him and survive a confrontation. Var did not regret his selection to speak—he had the ultimate right to express himself linguistically.

"You_ will not_ take his head," Vale calmly said, placing a hand on Var's shoulder to compose the discomposed Sangheili.

The Prophet became just as discomposed. A manifestation of shock coated his face; evidently, he held an obstinate temperament towards the situation. But he also was aware of his ill-suited behavior. "YOU_ DARE_ DEFY_ ME—_THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY?" Pity screamed, appalled. "I—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—AM THE_ VOICE_ OF THE GODS! YOU DEFY ME—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—YOU DEFY_ THEM_!"

"The Gods would not want gratuitous deaths in their names," Vale deadpanned. "And they would of course_ never_ endorse this farce, this waste of valuable time. My span is limited, and further depreciating my rare free period at your expense is undesirable."

"I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will have blood in payment for this Zealot fool's arrogance!" Pity snapped. He wiped the saliva away from his puckering lips; he was aware of his indecent effusion of emotions and opinion. Vale could win, but it required a cunning counter.

"What you intend to do is extrajudicial," Vale said truthfully and smoothly, coating his words in honey. "If you organize an execution for Zealot Var without such an arrangement being sanctioned by the Ministry of Fervent Intercession, you will be arrested and held accountable to high treason and asset wasting." Vale fastened his hand up to halt Pity; he concurrently dragged his hoof along the ground and upturned Halo's soil. " Do not imply that this news is beneath you—more aware, are you, of this than you allow to appear. So, I advise you end this insult to your honor so we can return our focus to imperative matters."

The Prophet huffed submissively, waving both his hands in an attempt to clear away his temper. A far-cry from his recent determination to impede Vale. "I will consult the Minister of Fervent Intercession himself." Pity glowered at Var. "_Do not_ relax, Zealot. I'll see you_ dead_."

"My span of influence will deny you that." Vale crossed his arms and cocked his head in a motion that told Var to move behind him. "But this rotation has seen enough contrastive points flung at another."

Pity reluctantly nodded, avoiding eye contact with Vale. He hardly had himself any humility, and he had to hold on to what he had until he saw the chance to recuperate.

_(Why act so foolish if you regret it moments later?)_ Vale scrutinized Pity carefully. The moment he was satisfied with an equivocal answer, he said, "Sentinels on this holy ring have aided our foe. Reason?"

"It is highly plausible that they are defective, and the rogue Oracle has deigned to convert them," Pity said, still recovering his pride gradually. "But why they deemed to prolong the struggle between Chieftain Literus' forces and the nonconformists is beyond what I—the Holy Prophet of_ Pity_—can answer."

"Mere speculation?" Vale asked.

"Yes, indeed," Pity replied. "But rarely am I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—wrong."

Vale silently disagreed to that remark._ (Not wrong, but error-prone.)_

Keeping his thoughts hidden, Vale was in the process of bringing another topic to hand when a gruff alien voice called out. "Holy Prophet of Pity!"

Vale turned to see Jiralhanae Chieftain Literus approaching from the left flank with two bodyguards on his either side.

"O' so worthy Chieftain," Pity greet with what he could manage of a bow. "You have my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—untrammelled attention. Speak with so desire."

"Holy Prophet, I have a situation deemed fit for your partial coverage." Literus pointed to two Jiralhanae warriors dragging a naked Pack brother up the range. "A_ runt_ of my Pack questions my decisions—_your_ decisions, in turn, are challenged."

_(Domestic disputes should remain obligated to their title.)_ "You bring such matters to the Prophet?" Vale asked, decisively wording it enough to make Literus appear weak. The two commanders hated each other.

"_Of course_!" Literus lightly growled, blazing his ferocious eyes at Vale. "I_ always_ act in the faith of the holy Prophet of Pity or lose my head in not performing in his favor."

"You don't have confidence in your leadership qualities?" Vale rubbed his mandibles together, sending tingles through his jaw—tingles he loved. "That is not healthy."

"I am not here for_ your_ judgment!" Literus snapped, forgetting himself but not daring to appear weak in front of his men. "I am for the Prophet of Pity's judgment. Criticism from a Sangheili—Fleetmaster or_ no_—is_ not_ tolerable."

Vale respected the Jiralhanae and disagreed with the open ambivalence between his race and theirs. But Vale despised Literus with a passion; it was rightly put into an effort once Literus helped enforce the conflict. Jiralhanae liked to fight, so they ensured a fighting environment.

Stopping Literus through negotiation was inefficient unless the Prophet of Pity embroiled himself; physically halting the Chieftain was impracticable due to his size. He stood eleven feet tall and preserved some aspect of inducing fear with the assistance of his fur being completely shaven off, leaving only whiskers on his snout.

Literus' armor was not generic for Chieftains. The entirety of his plated and chainmail power armor was coated black. The skulls of long dead Humans hung off his looping belts running along his waist; Human weapons hung with the heads. Running diagonally across his torso was a leather belt serving only to hold the various knives and blades Literus would use in ritualistic skinning and beheading of his enemies—each knife had different purposes. Finally, the most troubling cosmetic decision emblazoning itself on his character, Literus had a long leather strap tied to the ends of his gravity hammer, and he had slung the massive weapon over his back. Appearance-wise, it held a traditional esthetic manner but deterred him in combat.

Vale kept himself from arguing with the visibly exasperated Chieftain when two Jiralhanae threw the aforementioned 'runt' on the ground between Pity and the commanding duo, Vale and Literus. Vale had not even noticed the distance closing of the 'runt' and those dragging him.

Vale's first instinct was to survey the Jiralhanae. He was young, beaten—but brave. But the knowledge of his impending death was with him, but it did not control his ego. Vale found it impressive._ (Honorable even in the face of mortality.) _

Literus snorted and treaded over the young, ground-ridden Jiralhanae. "This is the runt."

"What is your name?" Pity inquired.

The young, wounded Jiralhanae coughed and rose to his knees, promptly having his two escorts lay their hands on his shoulders to compress any forward movement of his. "I'm Careekius," he weakly and softly said, choking on blood from some minor internal injuries.

"_Careekius_, what is the meaning behind this misconduct on the superior caliber of your Chieftain?" Pity inquired, folding his hands in his lap.

"I questioned his tactical decision, holy one."

_("Tactical"? Intriguing.)_ "How so?" Vale asked, adding himself to the interrogation.

Careekius bent his head around to Vale. The young Jiralhanae studied the Sangheili; why did he have an interest? Why did he consider him worthy enough to waste breath on? An answer as clear as the sky the individual Fleetmaster resided in came to Careekius: It was Vale Nar 'Sarasee.

"Fleetmaster, I have always held Chieftain Literus' tactical schemes and plans to a coarse regard," Careekius said, truth being with each word. "But this battle solidified any doubt I had in him. Too many I hold close to me died during this assault at the hands of Chieftain Literus' misguided strategy. I couldn't stay in the middle a moment longer."

Vale rubbed his lower two mandibles._ (There is no doubt that this opportunity is ripe for the taking and enrichment of my intervention.)_ "Were you Chieftain, what would you have done?" Vale asked.

Careekius' growing face of muddiness became alight when he ascertained that the possibility of his survival was explicit in presence. "I would send Yanme'e as cannon fodder in advance to sending Pack members, Kig-Yar and Unggoy to their deaths. Yanme'e are expendable as assets."

_(Basic. But further than what I have come to expect from his race.)_ Vale's eyes constricted his vision to be solely on Careekius.

The look of interest Careekius was receiving from Vale bolstered his hope, and he took a deep inhale before continuing. "Additionally, Mgalekgolo should have been utilized. I have also noticed a lack of Kig-Yar snipers on the surrounding cliffs. These cliffs offer a perfect bastion of cover and overview. And the incorporation of the Scarabs wasunneeded! On the stead with my opinion, I believe the Scarabs intimidated the heretics and Demon into a retreat."

_(Excellent. Better wording could have gone into his explanation, with better abbreviations, but he remains a priority for me. He's an asset.)_ "Holy Prophet." Vale looked up from Careekius and locked eyes with Pity; Vale only ever made eye contact when his words were severe. "I endorse a formal pardon for this young one. I agree thoroughly with his argument, and I_ will_ petition for his acquittal and a promotion if need requires me to."

Pity spun his hand consentingly. "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—concur both with your pardon proffer and the promotion proffer. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—would have it that this young Jiralhanae receive the status of Chieftain."

"WHAT!" Literus' shock disturbed Vale._ (This is going to escalate quickly.)_ A Jiralhanae attacking a Prophet out of defiance was not an unheard prospect. Vale was cautious and prepared to move at the moment's demand.

As Vale readied, Pity rotated his head from looking at the crouching Careekius to direct his eyes on to Literus; his Honor Guards prepared for a confrontation as Pity began. "Watch your tone, Chieftain. My—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—resolve is final and for the best of the Covenant—our consecrated unification!"

Vale discretely lowered his hand to the hilt of his energy blade. He was prepared to leap in and protect Pity once his inherent aptitude deemed there to be no likely return of Literus' equanimity.

Pity clicked his tongue on the top of his mouth and scratched the lid of his eye; the irritation and anxiety burned him. "You will still retain a position of power in the Covenant, and you will never taste the status of inferiority. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will see to that. But you—"

Literus gritted his teeth and roared fiercely before charging the Prophet.

_(Damn it!)_ "Kill the heretic! Protect the Prophet!" Vale waved his Lance forward before leaping into the raging Chieftain and sending him tumbling back a few feet and grinding to a stop. This move gave the chance to the Honor Guards and Ultras to envelop Pity in a defensive perimeter.

Vale drew his energy sword, slung his arm in the space above his form and brought his arm down in a swooping motion that activated the blade; two sizzling, ionized blades_ cracked_ from the hilt. Vale entered a combat posture as his Lance rallied around Pity; Careekius moved with haste to defend the Prophet, who gave him a second chance at being.

"BACK!" Literus finally pulled his gravity hammer from his aft and swung it around as he brought it to bear. "BACK,_ BASTARDS_!"

_(Half of us will die before he does. I cannot allow that.)_ Vale stabbed his blade in Literus' direction; the Fleetmaster wore a face matched only to that of the dead. "Stand down and redeem yourself of this heresy. I shall give no further offers."

Literus scoffed and gave his greatest judgmental scan over Vale. " 'Heresy', you call it? I committed heresy, yes?"

Vale nodded, endeavoring to smooth the situation over with conformity—worse decisions had been made by the Fleetmaster.

Literus pointed to Pity. "My 'heresy' is ill-comparable to_ his_!" Literus barked loudly at the Prophet. "So misguided, I was!"

_(Are you unsighted of the Prophet's legal actions here? Or do you do as deep as Pity does?)_ "The Prophet of Pity followed the legal subroutines correctly." Vale flexed his mandibles at Literus. "He has the authority to remove you from command as Minister of Reliquary Dominion."

Chieftain Literus erupted into laughter._ (Cease stalling and reveal the truth.)_ The words Literus had for Vale never reached the Sangheilian; three beams of plasma pulses trailed from the nearby cliffs, splitting Literus' head apart. Literus was dead instantly and slid dead to the ground; red-pink blood oozed from the six miniature openings in his head.

Vale spun around to where the trails originated from and saw a single Kig-Yar sniper stalking across the rock formations of the cliff-face. The shots must have been consecutive. "Lance, recover that sniper and bring him to my quarters." Vale pointed to the shooter, sending the Lance forth before spinning back around. "That Kig-Yar will be educated on several new definitions for the word 'reward'."

As the last clicks went with his words, Vale watched two extra Sangheili Lances come rushing to a stop behind him.

"Fleetmaster, we saw that attack. Is anyone hurt?" an Ultra asked.

Vale peered over his shoulder and analyzed the Prophet of Pity. He was puffing from shock and approaching a hyperventilating state, but was being attended to by his Honor Guards and Captain Ultras.

"No wounded." Vale craned his head back to match his body's facing direction before waving at the corpse of Literus. "Please deal with this mess. I will escort the Holy Prophet of Pity back to the base." Vale shuddered his neck and barred eyes with Var. "Brother, give your overgarment to Chieftain Careekius. Subsequently make your way to the tower and evaluate the facilitates' of the heretics for identity. The value of attending to the Prophet outweighs a formal report."

Var bowed his head. "Of course, brother." Var walked past Vale, pulling his cloak from his shoulder. Begrudgingly, he wrapped the cloak around the length of Careekius' broad shoulders. Var then hurried down the scoped range, towards the looming tower and its encompassing compound._(He will soon have to deal with a dozen Lances of Jiralhanae. I should accompany him.)_ Var needed to prove himself, so Vale neglected his inner urge and turned back around to Pity and his surrounding escort, Careekius now included.

"Thank you, Fleetmaster," Pity said, breathless. "Your first and fast actions saved my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—life. My gratitude goes to you. But I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—cannot consider reasserting Zealot 'Lultamee's position on the path."

Vale was likewise appreciative of Pity's acknowledgment of him, but also disliked his words. A sermon had to be performed to remove Var from the sacred path, and there was little holding Pity back from doing a sermon. Sermons based around fate were conventionally insular affairs._ (I will have to reinforce my presence to deter a sermon. Meanwhile, I will need to request for a formal pardon from the High Council.)_

Vale put aside the situation. Other matters demanded his attention, and while Vale scarcely gave into demands, he did when the demands arose from his intrinsic logic—logic was Vale's only dictation. That was his philosophy: Vale did deeds for himself.

"Holy Prophet, I advise a doubling of your Honor Guards." Vale glanced at the Captain Ultras. "I must also recommend that you keep any Jiralhanae personnel to a distance. Their reliance is not correlate with a threshold."

One of the Jiralhanae Captain Ultras glowered at Vale but dared not speak.

"No," Pity waved his hands in decline, quickly bringing his hand back up to catch his wet coughs. When he regained his breath, he said, "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will follow your former advice. The latter is too distasteful. One raging heretic will not cast a pessimistic shadow across the whole of the Jiralhanae."

_(Agreed. Albeit, you care not for what is noble and no. Why do you need your Jiralhanae so close?)_ "I respect your decision, but I worry about it." Vale bowed speedily to send off his semi-respect for the Prophet before his questioning brought about some other wrath from Pity.

"I will be with the Holy Prophet at all times," Careekius reassured. "My self-control has been achieved by discipline and remaining ignorant to my impulses. I've denied myself the right to make attempts on Literus' life multiple times. There is a stark difference between a barbaric murderer and a holy Prophet." Careekius ended with a gesture of respect, vaguely deciphered by Vale. The Jiralhanae gesture for respect went hand in hand with the Sangheili gesture for mistake.

_(A translation fault. I make no mistakes in putting my confidence into him.)_ Vale munched his mandibles together. "You are the first Jiralhanae I like. I trust you."

Careekius nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Fleetmaster."

"Come now." Pity waved the escort on, rotating his throne around and descending down the range to the compound where a Phantom awaited. Careekius and Vale trailed after the escort.

"Thank you for placing trust on my shoulders," Careekius said. "I will not disappoint you. I owe you_ that_ much—I live by my pledges."

_(I just hope I haven't misplaced my trust.)_

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

If anyone wants an original character of their design, I ask that they submit the details in a private message. The details can be extensive or remain concise; as long as I have some strong foundations, I can craft a character.

Your character will be utilized as an important side character whose backstory will contribute significantly to the plot. I recommend that you wait until you reach the latest chapter before submitting character details, so no incompatibilities are made with the requested details.

Thanks Tmachgaming for proofreading.


	9. The Monarch

**United Nations Space Command Priority Transmission 716T22-66**

**Encryption Code:** Red

**Public Key:** File/Vector-Sufficiant-Six-Seven/

**From:** Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey M.D., Ph.D., special civilian consultant (civilian Identification Number: 10141-026-SRB4695)

**To:** Admiral Margaret Parangosky/Commander in Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence/(UNSC Service Number: 00230-00923-MP)

**Subject:** Sheila-065, Forerunners, Covenant capabilities.

**Classification:** RESTRICTED (BXD Directive)

**/Start File/**

Margaret, each in their own have rewards in some way for their little hidden stars. In this case, I can't help but feel that one of your little stars has rewarded me. Margaret, you never cease to surprise me.

You sent a team of four of my SPARTANs on a high-risk mission to rescue me. I'm somewhat glad that I'm still of a value to you. Don't deny it; I know you could have dealt that Covenant fleet a swift end and spared them utilizing me.

I hope that it's unneeded for me to assure you that I am touched. Albeit, I am not much of a damsel in distress. I find it unsavory, and it goes against a particular character I've set myself up as. I must appease myself as much as I must appease the masses, Margaret. You know this as well as I do if not more.

Now comes the point. Miridem has fallen, as I assume you have heard.

As you may have also heard, the SPARTAN-II serving as my escort was killed in action. As per ONI Directive 930, Sheila-065 is hereby Missing in Action. Sheila-065 died protecting me from a Sangheili Major and his lance. I escaped, but I was captured later. She didn't die for much, and it irritates me. But that's not the point because she did her job, and she did it well.

The point is that the Major didn't eliminate me; he tracked me down and took me hostage while I was cryogenically frozen on an evacuation shuttle.

I assume you got the report on Solomon-069 and Arthur-079 regarding their status from Captain Jiron. They're irrelevant; I won't dive into the details. I also assume you have reviewed John-117's report on Operation: WARM BLANKET. He, in all likelihood, described his engagement with a Sangheili Major.

I don't know if you are aware, Margaret, but there is no difference between the Elite that killed Sheila and the one that almost killed John.

It is no perplexity to me that the Covenant's lengths in their warriors' capacities remain obscured for us. But if a Major can kill a SPARTAN and kill another just as efficiently, the war may be lost within years. Not preferable when we're on the losing side.

I rebuke my claims with my own theory: The Major just got lucky both times. John indulged the Major with an affaire d'honneur, using a weapon he had no prior accurate skills with, and Sheila was taken off-guard by an unaccustomed tactic from the Major.

Whether my analysis of what happened is exact on the dot or not, we are still going to lose, Margaret, and something needs to be done. We need to confide in these "Forerunners".

From what we know through transmission interception and cyphering, the Covenant revere the Forerunners as deities, and believe they disappeared through transcending the realm of existence to a paradise. And the Covenant want to follow suit. The number one illustration of what happens when mixing religion with politics.

These "Forerunners" left artifacts and engineering behind. The entire Covenant empire is built upon this technology. I hope this gives you a glimpse into what is available if we refocus our efforts. We don't have a lot of time, but we won't need a lot of time if we supplement resources to the right areas of interest.

If we act now, we may have a chance for survival!

**/File End/**

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Thel 'Lodamee)<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 6, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[0028 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Aboard Non-designated Type-52 Phantom, Unknown Halo Installation]**

* * *

><p>Thel 'Lodamee, ex-Ultra of the Covenant, used a simple term in association with the Sentinels and what happened to them: They disappeared.<p>

Eleven hours on, and no sign, no perceptible scent; a trail in the wind, a whizzing glint of a sound were all but wants. The Phantom containing Thel, the Diverted, and the Demon was with no destination but the mountains' apexes that touched the sky like spears erected to graze the moons.

The Sentinels were vital in finding the Halo's Monitor. And finding the Monitor was the key to escaping Halo—but the Sentinels were gone. It made no sense that the Sentinels assisted them if the Monitor didn't know they were on Halo. If, in fact, the Monitor_ was_ aware of them,_ why_ did it not attempt to contact them? And why did the Sentinels await to that pinnacle instant of the battle to aid Thel and his companions?

_Food for thought_, Thel decided, sitting back in the pilot's chair of the Phantom's cockpit and grinding his mandibles together under his helmet. His fingers played away at the maneuvering controls of the dropship, guiding it over gradients in the mountains and between arches of rock arrangements. Four more units and another would relieve him of his shift and Thel would rest.

"Brother, pardon me. I must rest." Anve 'Lodamee lifted himself from the seat in front of the co-pilot's console conterminous to Thel and stretched his neck. Thel felt a similar way in such that sitting for extended units of time was exhausting and produced painful cramps.

It was not out of a desire to share his pain further with Anve that moved Thel to grab his comrade's wrist, gaining Anve's attention as planned. "I must speak with you first." Thel wrapped his fingers tightly around Anve's forearm; his vambrace may have negated sensation to his wrist, but the reinforcement of Thel's own armor gave way to a physical connection between the two. It was a connection that Anve would not ever shed outwardly with another.

And when the connection was established, Anve paid heed. "Proceed." Anve slipped back around the armrest of the co-pilot's seat and resumed a relaxing position into it, falling rearwards to meet the padded chair's clutches.

_How do I put this in a simple enough practice as to not distress him?_ Thel struggled to find the correct words for a few instances before it came to him what to say and when to speak and in which form. His mandibles and vocalization schemes worked accordingly. "I'm assigning you as the unit's Major," Thel said, his mandibles matching the mood of the subject with precision. "I need you to supersede Rek."

"And I will follow," Anve said, tone just as befitting of the conversation; it integrated well with the background humming of the Phantom's propellant instrumentation. "Out of respect for what_ Rek_ would have wanted of me. Fidelity to you is my prime part in succeeding against death. But not here."

"Know that I respect you regardless of what leads you onwards," Thel said, shifting to comfort himself better in the seat and to release several spasms. "After this, we will only be commanded by our own compulsive judgments. Even be it Sangheili, I will not kneel to another."

"I concur," Anve said. "I must think of those who have died having no choice in objecting doctrines. I won't see Sangheilian culture substitute San'Shyuum culture once it is extracted from our unique virtues." Anve's eye went bleak and not even the whirling command digits on the holographic console before his face caught his attention.

"What is it?" Keeping all his warriors updated in readiness—Unggoy, Sangheili, Kig-Yar or even the Demon—was precedence over Thel's own healthy mentation. Certain laws governed Thel in the Covenant's military and certain laws persevered through his defection.

"I have been mulling over a disturbing taste in my mouth," Anve said a couple instances past Thel's display of interest and concern. "_Pa-paradise_." He was growing upset. Thel mimicked his comrade's despair, for Anve was not solitary in his feelings. "No_ Great Journey_; no salvation. Where do we go when we_ die_? Heretics theorized that a blankness of sleep is the reality. . . . Sleep passes with no conscious notice. Rek, Urse, Baras, Nze, Hesti—"

"They died for_ nothing_," Thel finished. Every name heated his blood like lava was being poured down his pharynx. "And I don't think there is anything after death as proclaimed by the Prophets. They lied about being aware of what awaits us in expiry." Thel needed to recollect himself._ This state does no benefit to what is required of me as a leader._ "Go rest, brother. I still have four units in my period."

Anve slipped back out of the seat without another word before easing his way up the corridor's ramp that connected the cockpit compartment to the Phantom's troop bay. Thel was left to his thoughts. Often reminiscing on past delusions and troubled formulas led to pain. Thel wanted pain; the explicit esthesis of anguish made Thel feel alive.

Thel shuffled back into his seat, idly contorting his fingers to the control's icons and keeping his eyes locked on the radar for any red blimps. The Huragok, Lighter Than Some, had re-engineered the Phantom's friend-or-foe receptors.

The Phantom continued to grace mountains with its traffic and dominate the airspace as the only flying animated object save sentient birds migrating to entertain their inner climate demands and hunting late in the moon's aura.

His mind never relaxed on a single thing and continued to shift from memory to memory while focus was donated to keeping the Phantom in a safe zone. When its flight path beckoned for more attention, Thel gave in to its requests. When the Phantom petitioned for new input, Thel entered several variable codes to stimulate the systems.

But Thel's mind could not help but fall prey to his recent memories. One around the length of a segment in a half ago in date. The first encounter with the Monarch and ensuant quest to escape the Halo they were on.

_Would it be better had we never met the Monarch?_ Thel wondered as the flashes of_ that_ rotation vividly reminded him of the end to everything he knew. The end of his world._ I am weak for considering that my comfort is relevant over Sangheili subjugation._

On that rotation, it was not about Thel alone. It was also about Humanity. They were learning to adapt themselves to the Covenant's way of war.

The negativity of that rotation had a fantastic blend of positivity. The positives were regrettably Humanity's reach for surviving and their pondering over any warrior codes they could implement to die achieving greatness. Thel never believed in the superstitious nonsensicality that_ all_ Humans were cowardly_ Nishum_. Thel's counter to Sangheilian logic was enforced by the Human Commander that stood before him that day. He could have put himself to death and denied Thel the chance to interrogate him, but in lieu of following reputed Human logic, the Human leader used his small, crude eyes to challenge Thel.

The Human stood drenched in the blood of his warriors, whose bodies cluttered the ground beneath his feet. The surrounding canvas revealed the battle for the Forerunner facility that had raged on and ultimately came to an end with hefty casualties on both sides

When a Forerunner facility was too heavily occupied by Human forces for the Ministry of Fervent Intercession, a team from the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion would ensure that the treasures beyond the Zealots' capacity for attainment arrived to the Prophets in one form or another.

Ultra Thel 'Lodamee was in command of the unit stationed in the_ Second Fleet of Divine Trinity_, and as the Human world he stood on was glassed by the fleet, he was tasked with securing a Forerunner facility from the Humans. The Covenant's adversaries congregated the accurate idea that the Covenant held the large structure on the planet's wilderness scope to some esteem, and knowingly redirected an ample Human detachment to prevent the facility from falling into the Covenant's grasp in an effort to spare the planet some extra time to defend itself.

The conflict between Thel's unit and the Human ground forces had raged for units of time before it all ended in a sanguineous mess that Thel would be left to clean up. But first, he would indulge in the Human's request in order to appease his own honor. Thel indebted that much to the Human, at the very least; he did not cower and had the honor that contributed to the strategy that left Thel's unit devastated. Thel had a flourishing respect for the alien.

Thel knew that he would reinstate his lost honor through dueling another Human. He kept an additional energy sword with him to cater to such aspiration. Thel grabbed the second sword and tossed it to the ash-covered ground in front of the Human.

_Pick it up. Pick up the sword!_ Thel wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his own blade and unclipped it from his thigh and brought his arm up into the air; in one downward swoop, the two blades of plasma with surrounding sparks of energy crackled from the holds of his hilt. Thel entered a posture and began circling the Human, preying on him. Thel's warriors kept their distance and formed a circumference around Thel, all observing, engrossed.

The Human bent down and retrieved the sword. He unsteadily returned to his footing and scrutinized the blade with one eye, keeping Thel on his watch with the other.

"If this one kills me, it is to die with dignity and honor," Thel told his warriors that consisted of Kig-Yar, Unggoy, and Sangheili. The words were for the Sangheili rather than the Kig-Yar and Unggoy. Thel conveyed orders to one who would channel the orders to the pawns.

The Human showed no apprehension to the works of an energy sword. Still, he followed Thel's earlier example in lifting his arm high in the arm and swinging his hand down while grasping the hilt so tight his finger were white. The momentum told the plasma that now was the time to taste blood, and it came forth from its shell.

The Human then entered a stance—an amateurish one, but Thel was content with the accuracy. The Human waited for Thel to charge; he did not have to wait long. Thel lunged forward, bringing his blade up for a strike and connecting with the Human's parry; blue particles flared from the connection and rained down on the Human and Thel. Not having energy-based protection, the Human was vulnerable to the radiating energy that charred his skin and armor.

Thel leaped back as the Human swung his blade frantically. Back a few feet, Thel recovered himself. He noticed that a portion of his energy shields had been depleted; the Human hit him several times, be those times poorly aimed or not._ Impressive_, Thel noted._ But still unskilled. But he is fighting with the blade for his first time._

Thel circled the Human, allowing his blade to lower and grace the ash, sending dirt to fly as the static enclosing the blade caused a draft. The Human rotated to meet Thel at every angle. He knew he was going to die. Even if he survived, the attendant Sangheili unit would put him down. He was not going to die without a fight, however, and primed himself for another defense when his head blew apart, a bolt of pulsing energy shedding his skull in half and sending him to the ground; blood and matter from the Human's encephalon blended in with the dirt and white extrusive residue.

"What?" Thel could not do more than twitch his mandibles and let his single word flow without the vocalization his jaws gave. He was dumbfounded._ Why? Why is this happening? Are the Gods playing a cruel trick on me? Am I never to redeem myself with a fair duel?_

"_There_!" A Sangheili Minor yelled, pointing to a nearby crevice in the canyon's border cliffs. It was where Thel had positioned the Kig-Yar snipers.

"Bring the killer to me!" Thel ordered as he fell in with his warriors and marched to the helical pass that led up to the fissure. A lance rushed ahead to apprehend the Kig-Yar and save Thel the trip up to the location.

_Two Demons escaped my grasp. Now a mere Human does so, too?_ Thel thought bitterly, disgusted with himself. A few cycles ago, Thel killed a Demon; another Demon escaped him, and a third—the leader, the_ "Master Chief"—_was spared just when his death by Thel's blade was nigh. Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee indirectly allowed what was credibly the biggest threat to the Covenant to live.

Thel avoided execution through means that he got through a communal understanding from the Sangheili members of the High Council. Thel convinced them to spare him—his near success in accumulating a three death-streak of Demons also corroborated him—and Thel escaped execution. The Supreme Commander was not so fortunate.

Thel was still admonished. He lost his spot on the path. He_ was_ given a chance to redeem himself without becoming an Arbiter. Thel was allotted as the leader of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion unit assigned to the_ Everlasting Retribution_, a CAS-class assault carrier and capital ship of the_ Second Fleet of Divine Trinity_, commanded by Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee—Vale was an advocate of Thel's during his proceedings.

Honor was as a much a part of a Sangheili as his hearts, cerebrum, or limbs were—to lose it is to lose any of the aforesaid elements of their character. Thel had lost his honor, and he lived on in expectancy of gradually redeeming it. But a derisory Kig-Yar thought to deny him any right. Thel was going to kill the Kig-Yar and let him fall to the Gods' judgment.

Thel and his warriors paused at the bottom of the pass as the Kig-Yar was dragged down by two Sangheili with the aid of two Kig-Yars. The Kig-Yar was squeaking, alarmed, scared. It was thrown before Thel, sending a wave of the turned soil over Thel's hooves.

"I did not_ know_!" the Kig-Yar squawked, rising to its knees; it was held down by three Sangheili overarching it. "Forgive me,_ Ultra_, I did not know!"

Thel brought his blade up to the Kig-Yar's neck and oriented it away to give his swing sobriety. When his blade was in spot and the Kig-Yar was held still by the three Sangheilians, Thel swooped, severing the Ruuhtian's head flawlessly off. Thel kicked the body back as thick purple blood squirted from the stump of its neck and sizzled against Thel's shields.

Sighing, Thel deactivated and holstered his blade before spinning about and leading his warriors over to the monolithic shielded doors of the installation they had battled and bled for. Every step he took, Thel was walking away from a dire moment of his life; he was walking away from his attempts to clear a blemish on his honor._ I can't escape it_, Thel told himself. There was no running away from the gaze of the Gods and their measurement of Thel's worthiness. The Kig-Yar would shortly learn that.

The doors to the facility were sealed shut. Thel had a team appointed to open it at the beginning of the battle's culmination.

The doors were titanic in size, outdoing the proportionate size Thel had thought the Forerunners kept as a threshold. The doors had no carvings or embedded patterns—it was plain achromatic metal, shining in the night of the planet. The rest of the facility was covered in engravings and geometrical lines. The pattern was piquant to look at; all Forerunner architecture was treated like looking upon the Forerunners themselves. The creations of the Gods were as religiously consecrated as they were.

Thel approached the console to the door—a redundant console if access was inexplicable. Thel's vision went to the team leader, Urse 'Vadamee, straight away. "Progress?"

Urse patted the shoulder of the Sangheili working on the console as he turned to Thel, exhausting a face of dissatisfaction and failure. He shrugged—the last gesture Thel wanted to see. "There is no_ progress_, Ultra. The door won't open to us." Urse rubbed his forearm. "I recommend radioing the support of some Huragok."

"_Or_ we could survey the border of the facility for another entrance," another Sangheili, Jol 'Turasee, suggested nonchalantly. "Both should suffice, Ultra."

_Time is of the essence_. "The Prophet of Pity will take unkindly to any delays," Thel said, bringing his fingers up to stroke the angular edge of his helmet's mouthguards that protected his mandibles. "But then Fleetmaster 'Sarasee will oppose any punishment. . . . Call in—"

Thel and those he addressed spun at the sound of the massive doors screeching apart; a draft followed intimately by a blue light escaped through the expanding perpendicular seam.

"Hold that order." Thel put his hand up and ran it over the space before him, studying the breeze coming from the seam as it reached its parting extent. The contents of the facility were obscured by a glowing blue aerosol, and none could see farther than a few feet inside the installation. "What happened?"

"Unknown. We didn't do this," Urse answered, signaling for his team to rally around him. He was a Minor, but Thel improvised with who could take command of splinter detachments. Urse was one of the highest-graded Minors in the Covenant.

"Ultra?" Major Rek 'Galravee, Thel's second-in-command, asked, stopping by his leader's side.

_It just opened?_ "Gather the contingent," Thel said, voice a puzzle and eyes a mess of excruciating ambition to discover the secrets of what dwelt inside. Sangheili curiosity would end Thel's world of other Sangheili impulses.

Thel slowly turned and followed Rek; Urse and his team flagged Thel. To keep his mind from concentrating on matters out of his hands, Thel shifted it to another issue that was incompatible with what he could do or change, but nevertheless a calling.

Twenty-seven Unggoy, nine Kig-Yar, and sixteen Sangheili were the remnants of Thel's unit; two Ghosts and a Wraith also survived, but were obsolete for the following task of Thel's. Three hundred Unggoy, seventy Kig-Yar, twenty-eight Sangheili, twenty Ghosts, and five Wraiths were what comprised Thel's unit before the battle. The Humans defending the installation numbered in the hundreds, with seventeen light assault vehicles, three tanks, and twenty-five defensive emplacement turrets.

_Strange odds,_ Thel thought and left maths to a time when he could tolerate it. Now came his prime profession: Leading.

Thel stopped before his assembled brothers. Kig-Yar and Sangheili cooperated to bring the battle-scarred Unggoy down in pitch and Sangheili that were giving the kiss of clemency to any wounded were finishing up and scurrying to join their comrades. Thel looked to Rek and waited. When all was ready, Rek, aware of Thel's observation, gave his leader a nod to begin.

"Brothers, take heed of the ensuing guidelines," Thel said. "Infringing will result in immediate execution. You are to keep your eyes_ open_ for movement or_ anything_ of interest. Touching anything without my permission is forbidden and I will cut the hands from anyone who deigns to go under my command. Disperse."

All saluted, placing their hands over their chests—it was a struggle for the Unggoy; the structure of their bones impeded full malleability, but they succeeded. The Unggoy were then led by their respective lance leaders past Thel and into the facility. Thel joined Rek's lance and walked by his brothers' sides into the installation's awaiting somber haze.

That was the beginning of the end.

Sangheili and Kig-Yar tossed flares; each new light source burned away the concentrated haze, and the natural twilight of the planet fed its way into the broad, spacious hall that saw a lower intensity of light as it neared its extremity. Another set of tall doors awaited Thel and his unit.

The columns throughout the long hall were held up by anti-gravity piston cylinders, and floated graciously in the air. The walls on either side of the hall shifted, retracted and were substituted by new walls that slid up before the walls as they were pulled back; the new walls repeated the activity._ This place is important_, Thel realized.

Abruptly, the blue gloom faded away, and the hall was only illuminated by flares and the natural light coming from the parted doors of the facility; new lights embedded in the columns beamed, adding to the light. Abiding by clear dictations, Thel and his warriors raised their weapons. "Be prompt for contact, but if you_ must_ fire, avoid hitting anything that is not Humans. This metal could be subjective to plasma burning."

From nowhere—from the void of the dynamical sphere of actuality—a voice doughy with the metallic delivery of distortion and static filled the hall, saying but one word. "Salutations."

Thel pulled his free hand up to halt his team. He gritted his mandibles and surveyed the hall for an answer. Uncovering none, he asked, "Who speaks?"

"I am the Monarch."

"Where are you?" Thel waved to have his warriors follow him, and lowered his hand but kept his plasma rifle raised forward for a frontal attack.

"To find me, you need only to continue," the voice—the Monarch—said.

_A possible trap. A Human trap_, Thel thought, eyes darting to every shadowed corner for an ambush, mandibles grinding collectively in anticipation.

He wasn't alone. "Brother—"

"I know," Thel said, stopping Rek before he said too much; it was fitter that the_ Monarch_ did not know of their suspicions. But Thel would soon target it directly. He said, to the Monarch, "_What_ are you?"

"A Forerunner Ancilla," the dull voice provided.

_An Oracle?_ Thel went for it. "Forgive me Oracle, but we need verification that you are not a Human trap before we continue." Prior to finishing his sentence, Thel held his hand up, calling for his team to halt yet again.

"Please elaborate."

Thel frowned. "The heathens; the ones your creators designated as a plague—we are the instrument of the plague's destruction!"

"Please elaborate on the source of this information."

Thel froze. "The holy . . . the holy Prophets—_your_ creators_ chose_ them."

" 'Prophets' is an unidentified appellation. Expectation of pre-firing racial classification beyond exceptional margins. Please detail their racial designation verbally."

_These questions don't make a speck of sense!_ "San'Shyuum," Thel replied worryingly. "How does knowledge of them escape you, Oracle? They_ are_ the Reclaimers—_we_, the Covenant, are the_ Reclaimers_! Why are you incognizant to this!"

"I cannot apprehend your logic. Please continue down the hall—gaps will be filled when my Sentinels are unleashed," the Monarch said.

_He doesn't know. . . . How is this possible? A Human trick—yes, it is a Human con!_ "Forgive us, Oracle, but we are still unsure of your origins. You do not meet the criterion of an Oracle and,hence, pose the threat of being a Human conception."

"Conveyance of contestation is impracticable in my position," the Monarch said. "I cannot persuade you otherwise. But it is_ I_ that now requires_ your_ assistance."

"Ultra." Rek came up to Thel's side, confused, afraid, but holding down the obligations that fell to him—input. Rek was Thel's consultant, and Thel confided in him. "He speaks of much that the Humans should not—and_ do not—_know!"

_Alas, the creation of logic. And even the Humans know our goals._ "True. . . . We have a task to secure this installation; we have no choice but to continue. What there is to know will soon come to us." Thel signaled to have his warriors prepare to follow and led on.

"This is unquestionably a Human trick," a Sangheili said.

"Of course; there is_ no_ doubt—no doubt! It cannot be anything_ but_ a_ Human_ trick!" another Sangheili argued.

"Prepare yourselves," Thel ordered upon reaching the end of the hall, falling in before another set of gray doors. "Any Human found is to die with no taste of mercy!"

In reply to Thel's order, energy swords came to life in a burst of hot plasma flow; plasma and radiation weaponry beeped in recognition of the order as they charged up, and Kig-Yar point defense gauntlets hummed to life; green and yellow energy shields surrounded the Ruuhtians' arms, touching their shoulders and ending at the foot of their clawed toes.

The doors bellowed, parting. No hail of Human bullets came through the expanding crease; in lieu of the expected, several miniature blue dots floating in the Acheronian room like stars came towards them. The room, growing larger as the doors parted, lit up, and the ambiguous tension ended.

"Hold your fire!" Thel ordered as several Sentinels drifted past them, on a course to the other end of the hall, the entrance to the installation._ Any Humans within will be dead as per the creed of the Forerunners._

"Enter." The voice ceased to arise from no defined direction, but now came from within the room solely, tapering the ambiance of the pitch and lulling Thel.

"Lower your weapons. Be at ease," Thel told his team, clipping his own plasma rifle on his thigh. He led his team into the room and laid eyes upon the Monarch.

The room was small—a nimble chamber. In the center of the far wall was a radiating mainframe with what appeared to be the rudimentary form of an Oracle embedded into the center of the mainframe. Tubes crossed the walls, leading away from the mainframe and connecting up to terminals and consoles around the chamber. The ground leading up to the mainframe had patterned cracks that saw rhythmical lights glow through the seams as they moved to the mainframe—the incisions were wiring.

Confounded by the technical view, Thel nevertheless lowered his head in respect; his warriors followed suit in his actions of bestowing a superior caliber onto the Monarch. "Oracle, it is a grand honor to be before you."

"Wait. . . ." With no display of emotions, Thel was perplexed by the Monarch's sudden mixing of concern into its near indistinguishable voice. "I see a battle has occurred for the domination of this installation. You killed the Reclaimers—why?"

Thel jerked as a jolt of shock ruptured his spine, slammed into his brain and turned his vision not figuratively red._ It means . . . the Humans_. "Interesting. . . ." Thel said, mislaying his ability to speak, but fought to regain it from the utter horror of a dying mentality.

"Heresy," a Sangheili muttered.

"HERETIC!" a second Sangheili roared.

"You lie," Thel said in a debased incisive tone. "Humanity is a plague. . . . They are_ not__. . ._ A disease that_ must_ be cleansed. . . ." In a matter of an instance, Thel repeated every word the Prophets preached of what the Forerunners spoke. Very little broke the shock that the Sangheili mistook the San'Shyuum's mouth for their waste-producers. "What is it that the Forerunners want?" Thel's eyes sharpened and he snapped his head to the direction of Monarch's mainframe. "Why are you_ lying_?!"

"Beyond my extraneous form is internal scripting," the Monarch said. "There is_ no_ option in my realm to mislead you. Peer back onto the source of the information and take away the confidence you put into it. See the verity behind it?"

_Strip away the flesh and you have the bones._ "_What_ is Humanity as a species? Are they a plague?" Thel asked in a brittle tone, licking his tongue over the teeth of his mandibles; calmness was key to finding the truth. The truth strayed from fanatics, a reason to why they always searched for something. An open mind was all that was needed.

Thel let his mind open.

"Humanity are the inheritors of the Forerunner Ecumene," the Monarch explained; his voice denoted no sympathy. He cared, though. The Monarch saw the creatures before it as misguided fanatics. A slowly dying entitlement. "Humans were always the Reclaimers. My creators withhold them that right through blood. To preclude the Mantle being removed, they condemned themselves."

"Shut it,_ liar_!" Someone yelled.

_Caution for the enraged._ "Rek," Thel called. "If whoever spoke utters another word, remove his tongue."

"Affirmative, brother."

Thel's droopy eyes declined their master's command to rise. Take away the spirit, and the body fell to instability. Thel took what he had, and asked, "What happened to the Forerunners?" Worried murmurs came along with Thel's breaking voice.

"They died when my creators activated the Halo Array. So did every other sentient being in an acceptable radius to deny nourishment for the Flood. Tell me something, Sangheili, am I misinformed?" Thel finally looked to the Monarch as the Associated Intelligence continued. "I see now that this is all religious based. My Sentinels are delivering an abundance of data, and I see a scarred past behind why you seek the extermination of Humanity. Tell me, why do you fight the Reclaimers?"

_Why do we fight them?_ Thel wondered._ Because the Prophets commanded us to combat them._ "The Prophets gave us the Forerunners word. . . ." Thel uttered. "Humanity desecrated their relics, transgressed the appropriate limits. It was your creators' will that they die. . . ." Thel hissed and stretched his mandibles; his jaw spread, the four hooks of his mouth slid against the interior of his helmet. "They_ knew_! You are_ anything but_ misinformed, Oracle—we were_ lied_ to! We were sent to war against Humanity to bury a secret and to keep the San'Shyuum in power. Where would we turn had Humanity's heritage been unleashed on the public? Who would pay for so many years of blind pursuit?" Thel turned around to face his warriors as a whole. "Who has died in a war that was not for virtue, but is for power?_ Your_ brothers and their sons, and their fathers. The promise of seeing them again was built upon broken words cloaked in misrepresentation."

"So sure, are you, of the Prophet's being liars?" the same riotous Sangheili asked. Self-denial; Thel also reeked of the sightlessness that came with wanting to look for another explanation. But Thel was aware that with blindness came the eventual recognition of your defects; Thel was open-minded. But he was also impatient.

He stomped his hoof down, clanking it onto the ground in the touch and snatching the attention of all. A demanding motion, a frowned upon action. Thel didn't care. "And why are you so sure that_ this_ thing is lying? Rip away the layers that bind down your loyalty. Consider for_ but a moment_ that those you hold to regard are not_ all_ they say they are."

Another Sangheili came forth. Rek prepared along with other Sangheili that saw a glimpse of truth through lies. "What you say is heresy, brother 'Lodamee. It's sacrilege of our fundamentals—"

"_WHAT_ FUNDAMENTALS?" Now saw the end of forbearance and tolerance. "THERE ARE_ NONE_! STOP BEING ABSURD AND SEE THE_ TRUTH_!"

"And be_ left behind_?" the Minor asked. "If I kill you now—even if I die—I will still be guaranteed a position on the path."

_A Minor against an Ultra that killed a Demon and almost killed two others?_ Thel let his hand rest on the top of the hilt of his holstered energy sword. "We're blinded by nature. Enter the fact that the San'Shyuum subjugated us after we declared war on them._ This_ is our ultimate punishment."

"I believe in Ultra 'Lodamee," Rek entered his disposition. "I trust his judgment, and I look at the evidence. The Prophets—Truth, Mercy, and the bastard Regret—learned that the Covenant was built upon the ideology that was misinterpreted. They could have disclosed this truth and faced punishment for their blindness, but they craved power, and perchance they still believed that the Forerunners ascended to paradise." Rek looked over to the Monarch's mainframe. "_Did_ they? You say that they died; is dying the same as ascending?"

"No. Halo was built with the intention of neural termination. Religion was not the foundations of Halo," the Monarch insisted. "Halo's creation actually contradicted the belief of my creators. To uphold all life and protect it was the sacred duty of those who upheld the Mantle. Halo destroyed all life, defying the Mantle. The Forerunners died when the Halo Arrays were activated."

The doubters had heard enough. They drew their swords—some were cut down by Rek and others—but most just turned their blades on themselves and split apart their chests. When it became evident that the truth was too much for some to manage, Rek and the others stopped.

_There is nothing in life, so existing in the nothing of death only relieves pain._ "I would not be so eager to end your lives," Thel said as other Sangheili grabbed their blades; they all stopped, waiting for something to bolster their motivation. They did not want to die when there was nothing to await them. But without a cause to seek, there was nothing a Sangheili could live for.

Thel was going to give them a cause. "Kill yourselves. But know in your hearts that tasting San'Shyuum blood will not come to you; that's right, liars deserve to be repaid for their nature. Truth, Regret, and Mercy are three liars. They have doomed themselves, and I will see their bodies paraded around High Charity, naked, lies revealed. After witnessing the downfall of their Regime, every San'Shyuum male, youngster, woman, offspring, and Councillor will see a gruesome end._ That_ is how it is meant to be, and I want_ you_ to be a part of it because I can't do it by myself." Thel looked beyond the crowd of distraught brothers and the dead. The planet's emerging sun was visible from where he stood; the Sentinels were returning through the hall. "And Vale will be no help."

Thel turned to the Monarch's mainframe, examining the radiating marvel for a way to make it ambulatory. His word alone may convince Vale, but Vale wouldn't succeed in disillusioning the entire Sangheili race. And the Prophet of Pity would, via protocol, be the first to walk the facility's halls. Calling for Vale to come meet the Monarch would do nothing when the Prophet of Pity would see behind it, and put his foot before Thel's hoof.

"We need your word. I am—all of us, rather, are in indebted to you, Ora—Monarch. Humans are the Reclaimers—_so be it_, but I don't idolize false Gods so I won't worship the children of false Gods. But we need to consolidate the Sangheili against the San'Shyuum. And we need you for that."

"I can assist, Sangheili. Albeit, I cannot become mobile—not like this. I am but one of many possibilities for Humanity to be assisted in Reclaiming the Forerunner's Ecumene. My purpose is to await Human contact and help them. In the case, that no contact was made, and I enter the end of my lifespan, I can only be released by the authorization of another being. Huragok or a class of Sentinels created to assist me—Squires—will suffice; my creators only assigned modified Aggressor Sentinels in my crypt. In order to be released, I need to follow through with strict protocols that initiate when contact with the Reclaimers is established."

"This should be interesting," Rek remarked, watching the Sentinel scouts pass by him and surround the Monarch's mainframe.

"It may just well be, Sangheili," the Monarch said. "To provide understanding for the lesser intelligences, my vocabulary choices are not as widespread as is conventional for Ancillas. Irrelevant. Established path reconnected. I am connected to an innovative teleportation network that links this installation up to each Halo through a slipspace network. When contact with the Reclaimers is made, I am to deliver them to each Halo in chronological order. I can teleport myself to a specially designed location on the Halos at any time, but there was never any need until now."

_Too vague._ "Wait, 'locations'?" Thel asked.

"Each Halo has a facility specially fabricated to house my Parisadal. Each of these installations has Squires that are commanded by the Halo's Monitor. If scans clear me of rampancy, the Squires will release me. I can then reconnect to the Parisadal at any time and transfer the Humans to another Halo to initiate the Reclamation routines. Protocol allows me to disengage from the holds of these prescripts to assist the Reclaimers in other ways. They are endangered by the San'Shyuum, and assisting you assists the Reclaimers. I will teleport us to Installation-02 where slipspace transport is procurable. Utilizing the interstellar transport with the Monitor's blessing, we will return to your homeworld."

_Spilling San'Shyuum blood will have to wait, eh?_ "There is no other way, no?" Thel asked. "We have Huragok, but calling them in is impossible. We could lie, but inbound dropships with the Huragok will find the truth."

"Apologies. There are_ no_ other options available, Sangheili," the Monarch said.

"So be it. How long will this take?" Thel asked.

"Updating protocols is instantaneous for me. Sequences for teleportation are in effect." The blue lights that gave the chamber its theme grew more lucent and purple. "Please do not move. And do not be alarmed at the feeling of an unusual sensation. The 'teleportation' term is loosely used. Your corporeal form will be broken down and sent through slipspace."

Thel turned to his warriors. Sangheili and Kig-Yar quietly told the Unggoy to be still, but most were already inactive as a cloud engulfed them, blocking out the planet's sun and any light coming from the hall. "Just one trial before vengeance, brothers. Hold fast." As Thel finished encouraging his comrades, he felt the unusual sensation: Prickling and subtle electrical zapping from the raw power in the clouds around them.

Thel looked down to his arms. The armor burnt away into orange atoms; his skin followed the disintegration of his armor.

In an instant, everything went black.

The subsequent events were fate working hard against the Monarch. Instead of arriving on Installation-02, the newly-formed "Diverted" ended up on another Halo that the Monarch couldn't designate. There were no Squires present at the facility designed for the Monarch. After the Monarch explained that he had to reroute their course to the nearest Halo due to an unforeseen fracture in the network, Thel and his warriors settled into waiting for contact from the Halo's Monitor.

They waited one and a half segments. There was nothing.

Ending his reflective journey, Thel retreated back to reality. There were no disturbances. Now came one; the Demon was descending the ramp, approaching Thel from behind.

_What does it want?_ "Do you need something?" Thel asked the Demon, blurry-eyed and thick in his voice. He didn't turn in his seat; he would acknowledge the Demon, but only through words.

"I request to verbalize a concern I have, Ultra," the Demon said. "It's addressing is vital for my performance."

Thel grumbled in his throat; he sighed but gave in with a swirl of his hand. "Go ahead."

The Demon didn't move. "You declared that you almost eliminated Sierra-117. I am one hundred percent positive that you eliminated Sierra-065."

_Who?_ "I have killed many things in my life, Demon," Thel said indifferently, almost annoyed at the obscurity that the Demon found befitting to carry with his words. "But I do not recall ever killing something that gave me their name."

"You eliminated a female SPARTAN while seizing doctor Halsey," the Demon elucidated. "Sierra-117—the Master Chief—was incorporated into an operation to secure Doctor Halsey from you."

"Ah!" Thel spread his mandibles, submerging a laugh with a yawn. "_Her_. You are not implying that you are upset? You only realized this now, I understand? Anger is natural, but do not betray our agreement to not kill each other. Are you eager to break that bargain?"

The Demon never said anything; a length surrounding a moment passed, and he turned and left the cockpit, taking the enmity with him and leaving Thel baffled as to what could be the answer.

_No would be easier to say than yes. To save face, why say anything? This is going to be a problem_.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Due to 343i having yet to make an official Covenant calendar, I have constructed a substitute. Be warned that what is written below will be contradicted in future chapters with other designations as I used a previous calendar system before this revised version was designed. Contradictions should end as revisions fill in the blank spaces.

Instance(s) = Second(s).

Moment(s) = Minute(s).

Unit(s) = Hour(s).

Rotation(s) = Day(s).

Comprising Segment(s) = Week(s); was originally "Mini-Segments."

Full Segment(s) = Month(s); was originally just "Segments."

Cycle(s) = Year(s).

Was proofread by **Joat the Goat**. This guy is a legend. My heartfelt thanks goes to you, Joat, if you are reading this.


	10. An Ancient Foe

[RECORD: [Dr. Catherine. E . Halsey: SN: CC-409871] No. 0397 [2525: 21, 04, 1733, 53s]

[TOPIC: Sierra: Red-098: Analyse Post-Augmentation-09]

[SITUATION: HOTEL 9]

[CLASSIFIED: ALPHA ONE: ONI-SEC-PRTCL-1A]

[RECORD: BEGIN]

_Out of all the SPARTANs crippled during the augmentation... Red is the only one who we can immediately fix._

_Red's augmentations went extremely well. But there was... a minor flaw... Red's body rejected the Carbide Ceramic Ossification. Although the CCO did work on Red... the bones in his right hand were pulverized, and we had to replace the bones with cybernetics._

_The surgery proved successful, and he is at the moment in rehabilitation._

_I have a theory about why he may rejected the CCO, and as to how it didn't have a large affect on him._

_He once said to me that he 'shares his pain'... I now understand what that meant. But I seriously doubt that it is related to this._

_All in all; I have no doubt that Red will soon make a full recovery, and he will be able to rejoin the rest of the SPARTANs._

_Out of all the SPARTANs that I have taken a keen interest in -John, Sorren, Kelly- Red... is one of the most interesting out of them._

_He has proven to be very skilled... and very violent._

_I still think back to what he did... and how it is my fault... I took these children away from their families... I made them machines... if one tried to become a machine too soon in his training... it was to spite me._

_Red hated my guts. Now, he thinks of me as a mother -just like all of the other SPARTANs._

_I didn-_

_Doctor._

_Déjá? What's wrong, now?_

_Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez needs to speak with you, doctor._

_Again? Is this about Red?_

_I'm not sure, Doctor._

_How typ-_

[RECORD: END]

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1326 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Disembarking Covenant Type-52 troop carrier, Unknown Location, Unknown Halo Array.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>The sun's glare was glowing in 098's visor. And the only reason he was not shielding his eyes was due to his visor automatically changing its tone so 098 could look the sun directly in the sun, and not be blinded.<p>

The sun in the system was blue; which may have helped a bit since it is proven that yellow is the brightest color.

But there was something _enchanting _about the sun. Something that was keeping 098's gaze.

"Grab those plasma launchers." 098 heard a Diverted Elite named Freyn 'Okranee order what 098 figured was a bunch of Grunts.

098 didn't have to see who was speaking anymore. He added the names of all the Diverted soldiers to his IFF; so he now knew which Diverted soldier was which. But the Huragok named Lighter Than Some updated his IFF and translation software further which managed to synchronize the directions of voices, and the frequency of tones; so his HUD would display which Diverted soldier was speaking along with the subtitles from his translator appearing on the bottom of his HUD.

098 was at first reluctant to give Lighter his helmet again. But he eventually let the floating Alien have a look; and was glad he did so.

Lighter also found out that the Covenant soldiers had lenses over their eyes which served as their HUDs. Lighter utilized this and tinkered with all the Diverted soldiers lenses -much to the dismay of a few Grunts and Jackals- and set up a subtitled translation system that would translate what 098 said -similar to his own translation system. This meant that 098 didn't have to listen to his words automatically become Sangheili.

The Huragok also proved useful when it came to collecting food -for it would show them which food was good for which race. This proved highly useful for 098; because he wouldn't eat anything other than nutritious food.

Mendez had taught the SPARTANs that if they couldn't find food, then they would have to resort to consuming body fluids and waste. While a good idea, one option for gaining nutrition was lost after the SPARTANs augmentations.

But luckily, 098 didn't have to resort to such drastic measures.

Eating did, however, prove to be a challenge, because every time he proceeded to eat in the Phantoms bay he would have to remove his helmet; and in doing so, he got fearful stares from the Grunts.

But one long, stern stare at the Grunts made them forget about him and curl up in a corner and go to sleep. 098 once thought he heard one crying after he gave it a look.

Despite landing the Phantom a couple of times to collect food and relieve themselves, 098 and the Diverted had been on the move for around the past 36 hours.

And out of all those hours, they had not found the Sentinels that made their way towards the mountains. Sure enough, the three dozen Sentinels -that began escorting the Phantom after they destroyed the three Phantoms pursuing them- were still with them. And at the moment they were still guarding the Phantom. But a few had broken off to 098's position -as he was further away from the Phantom than anyone else.

098 tried to have the Monarch's Sentinels commune with the ring's Sentinels. But communications led nowhere, with the ring's Sentinels paying no heed to whatever the Monarch's Sentinels were saying in their beeps and buzzes.

As for the Covenant: 098 and the Diverted had not encountered any since the battle. There was a distant SDV-Class Heavy Corvette tracking them. But 098 didn't think they could pick them up; since they hadn't sent any troops in to pursue them.

098 believed that the ring's Sentinels may had been responsible for that for there was one larger Sentinel than the others; and 098 figured it may had been shielding them from any radars or sensors.

098 suddenly felt some pain go through his chest, and quickly slung his DMR over his back, and removed the makeshift bandage across his chest from where the Zealot back at the installation cut, before checking the wound.

Thel recommended that 098 clean it out with salt water -which he did. But it must had gotten reinfected during the battle -along with the wound on his back that he got when a large piece of shrapnel flying into him. That wasn't what was causing the pain, however. Because 098 had the Diverted land the Phantom near an ocean where he cleaned it out again -aswell as cleaning out the new wound on his back; and Lighter assisted 098 in finding plants and herbs that would help with healing the wounds.

It didn't take long for 098 to realize that the pain wasn't being caused by his wound -or anything related to him for that matter.

It was odd; 098 always felt unusual pain every now and again. But he didn't know why. He figured he once knew what it was. But he must had forgotten.

Whatever it was, it proved to be serious at times. Once, 098 was in an op mission when a large amount pain went through his thigh, followed by a large amount of burning.

It felt like 098 had been stabbed by an energy sword. But all of the medics and doctors examined his thigh and found nothing wrong.

Whatever it was, it almost made 098 fail the op he was on.

"Demon." 098 turned his head around to see Anve walking and stopping by the SPARTANs side.

"Do you require assistance?" 098 asked.

"No," Anve shook its head "I just wish to enjoy the view."

_Affirmative _098 nodded. He himself enjoyed the view.

The Phantom landed on a cliff, and 098 was standing by the edge; surveying the area. The area he was surveying was without a doubt the most beautiful sight he had seen on the ring so-far.

Searching the mountains for the Sentinels proved to yield nothing. And they had to refocus their search towards the ocean of the continent they were on. The ocean, however, was a tropical ocean; and the cliff that the Phantom landed on was on a large mountain overlooking the tropical environment.

But it was not enthralling enough to steal the attention of an Elite.

"Do you require assistance?" 098 sternly asked again.

Anve clicked its mandibles in annoyance before cocking its head around to face 098 "Persistent, Are you not?"

_Irrelevant _"Elaborate presence." 098 sternly commanded the Elite.

"You _are _more aggressive, I see," Anve observed "Then perhaps Thel is right to worry."

_Clarification understood. Engaging in topic; possible hostility._

"My personal emotions or feelings are irrelevant," 098 reminded Anve of what he said a couple of days ago "Hostility of past events are irrelevant. Survival is mandatory, and is all that is relevant."

"What?" Anve clicked his mandibles in annoyance while cocking its head to the side; confused as to what 098 said.

_Allow me to elaborate in Human non-military verbal wording _"My personal emotions or feelings do not matter," 098 clarified "And me being hostile over past events is not what I am aiming to do. My survival is all that matters."

Anve let out a huff turned its head back around to face the distant envioment, and click his mandibles a couple of times before saying "That is not what happened during the early units of last rotation."

_Allow me to elaborate _"I was angry at the time," 098 nodded "But I have managed to put that aside."

"And what _proof_ do we have that you will hold your word?" Anve questioned him.

"If I kill the Ultra, all hopes of this war ending will be diminished." 098 tried to convince the Elite.

"Emotions and take control easily," Anve warned him "You may act out of a clouded judgment."

_Negative _"If I were to act out of a clouded judgment, I would have already done so." 098 reassured the Elite.

"I certainly hope so." 098 turned his head to see the Ultra -whose name was Thel 'Lodamee- walking up and stopping by Anve's side.

It was an awkward situation that 098 immediately ignored before turning back to surveying the distant jungles; with Thel letting out a chuckle as he did so.

"How is progress, brother?" Anve asked Thel.

"Ten more moments and we should be ready to move out." Thel replied with a few clicks of its hidden mandibles.

_Ten minutes _From what 098 had picked up so-far from the Diverted chatter, moments meant minutes, units were hours, rotations were days, and cycles were years.

"Brother, if the corvette picks us up... we will be dead within moments." Anve warned.

"We have a better chance of escaping their sensors on-foot than in the Phantoms," Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in explaination "I just hope the Sentinels will continue to escort us -for I believe that they are the ones jamming the corvettes sensors."

"Once they find the Phantom-"

Thel broke Anve off before he could continue "By that time, we will hopefully be in concealed by that," Thel pointed to the jungle covered mountain "And they would not dare use weapons that would cause a large amount of damage. So they will have to send in troops of Phantoms to look for us."

Anve clicked its mandibles; trying to find the right words -but it was a Jackal who sneaked up on them that spoke first "Why do we not continue to use the Phantom?" It asked in its screechy voice. 098 saw that its name was Cek.

Thel turned to face Cek "The corvette is close now. If we use the Phantom, it will be sure to spot us. And though we may be able to escape it, it will likely send Banshees, Vampires, Liches, and Seraphs after us that will catch us. And even if they do not, the Phantom is very near to loosing energy anyway."

Cek let out an annoyed screech "I hate walking."

"Go back and get ready!" Anve snapped at Cek.

It let out an annoyed screech again, but continued back to the Phantom without issue.

"Damn creatures." Anve lightly clicked its mandibles.

"Most of them are not so annoying," Thel stated before turning around to face 098"Demon, have you spotted anything?"

_Surveying progress not completed _"I am not done yet." 098 replied; not taking his sight off of the jungles.

Thel clicked its hidden mandibles a few time before letting out a huff "Demon, if you wish to speak about-"

Thel stopped and turned as 098 quickly moved out-of-the-way of the ring's Sentinels floating past them and towards the mountain.

"Where are they going." Anve clicked its mandibles while cocking its head in confusion.

098 zoomed his visor in to focus on the area that the Sentinels were converging on.

"The big one is still there." Anve pointed out.

"Good. I believe that one is jamming the corvettes sensors." Thel clicked its hidden mandibles as it approached 098.

"What do you see?" Thel asked 098.

_Zero visual on reason for Sentinels to disengage _"Nothing." 098 replied as he steadied his zoom to see what was happening.

Then he saw it. Tall jungle trees were being knocked down, birds were flying away from the area, and a large mass of a creature was making its way through the jungle.

_Positive visual _"I have a visual." 098 reported.

"On what?" Thel asked.

Before 098 could answer, he lost he footing and looked down to see a tentacle wrapped around his leg.

"DAMN!" Thel roared as it and Anve attempted to grab 098 before he was dragged off of the cliff -but it was to late. 098 was falling; his DMR was still in his hands though, and he began batting the tentacle -not shooting less he hit himself.

The tentacle wouldn't let go no matter how hard 098 battered it, and 098 looked to see that he was about to hit the ground at a high speed _Elimination inevitable._

But before 098 hit the ground, the tentacle pulled him up; the impact of the tentacle suddenly pulling him felt like his leg was being ripped out and 098 looked to see that he was being pulled back up. And that the tentacle was leading to inside a cave on the cliff face.

098 raised his DMR -certain that he was about to face whatever it was that had him.

"THE DEMON IS STILL ALIVE!" 098 heard Anve roar.

The tentacle pulled 098 into the cave; and he saw what had him.

The tentacle was connected to a large, hulking creature with shorter tentacles coming out of its back. The large tentacle that had 098 came from where its head should have been, and it stood like an animal, but its legs were all crooked, and it walked on four tentacles that came from its ribs. 098 managed to spot the head and saw that it was bent right back, with the tentacle that had 098 coming out of its throat.

Another odd thing about the creature was the slime that was coming from it, and the green mist that surround it.

098 didn't waste any time, and began shooting the creature. The bullets hit the creature; but the creatures flesh didn't split apart, and the bullet entered the flesh like a finger being pushed into play-dough.

_Firearms ineffective. Melee combat inevitable _098 shot three more rounds before he slung his DMR over his back, and pulled out his combat knife that was sheathed on his left shoulder and readied himself to enter melee.

The creature dropped 098 and let out what 098 thought was a laugh before bringing in one of its shorter tentacles to try to grab 098. 098 simply stabbed the shorter tentacle as it got near him. But this seemed to annoy the creature, and it smashed its large tentacle into him, and sent 098 flying into the cave wall.

Pain went through 098's body. And again, he was glad that his armor had the Hydrostatic Gel _Negative physical damage._

98 landed on the caves hard ground, and quickly jumped back up -ignoring the pain- and grabbed his M6D with his left hand before shooting the creature again. Unfortunately, his 12.7x40mm M225 SAPHE Rounds just went into the creatures flesh with minimal effect.

_Possibility of elimination rising._

098 heard the sounds of a Phantom, and turned his head around to see the Diverted Phantom steadying itself around the cave's entrance with Thel on the left bay's turret.

"MOVE DEMON!" Thel roared.

098 immediately dodged out-of-the-way as plasma rippled past him and hit the creature dead on. And just as 098 thought, when he turned around to face the creature, he saw its flesh was melting off.

098 quickly grabbed two frag grenades and threw them towards the creature before turning and sprinting away.

The frag grenades exploded with the creatures flesh showering 098's back. But 098 still heard the creature roar in annoyance and the SPARTAN turned to see the creature launch its tentacle towards the cave's entrance in an attempt to destroy the Phantom.

098 countered this with using all of his momentum to jump into the way with the creature's tentacle hitting him dead on, and sending him flying out of the cave and through the Phantoms open bay before 098 grabbed onto the Phantoms right bay's door that was slightly raised, and used it to pull himself back into the Phantom.

"Disengage!" 098 yelled as he climbed back into the Phantom and ran over to Thel.

"ANVE, GO!" Thel roared as it continued to shoot into the cave with 098 coming up behind it.

Thel focused his fire on the creature's large tentacle, and melted its flesh off as it tried desperately to get its tentacle out of the cave. But before 098 knew it, the Phantom was racing away from the cliff at super speed before making its way back up to where they landed earlier.

The creature, of course, sent its tentacle after them.

_Only one possible solution to current engagement _"Give me your energy sword." 098 ordered.

The Elite didn't waste any time, and grabbed its energy sword and tossed it to 098 -all the while firing the plasma turret at the creatures tentacles.

"Disengage." 098 ordered Thel as he activated the energy sword, and jumped out of the Phantom.

098 went flying towards the creatures tentacles as the creature itself began crawling out of the cave.

Falling at high speed made 098's impact on the tentacle hard. But once again, his armor proved to be useful and he steadied himself before quickly jumping back down the tentacle a bit before using the energy sword to cut cleanly through the creatures tentacle -shorting its tentacle by half.

The creature let out a roar of annoyance -not pain- and quickly pulled what was left of its large tentacle -and 098- towards it while sending its smaller tentacles to meet 098.

098 carefully balanced himself, and used the energy sword to cut cleanly through one of the tentacles that raced towards him, before dodging slightly out-of-the-way of another tentacle before swinging the blade in to sever that tentacle.

098 turned to see how close he was now to the creature itself, and jumped onto it -grabbing its bent back head before cutting off where the large tentacle met the neck.

The creature let out a roar as its tentacle fell down towards the distant ground.

098 noticed that the ring's Sentinels were quickly floating back towards the cliff to intercept the creature 098 was on.

"INTERCEPT ME AND PREVENT MY ELIMINATION!" 098 yelled at the Sentinels as he deactivated the energy sword, sheathed it on his thigh, and jumped off of the creatures just as the Sentinels lasers hit the creature dead on; melting off its flesh.

098 turned around so his back was facing the distant ground, and just as he hoped, two Sentinels broke off of the group and began floating down towards 098 as the Monarch's Sentinels appeared to assist in eliminating the creature with the Phantom swinging back around to show plasma shooting out of the bay at the creature.

The two Sentinels closed in on 098, and he waited until he was close to hitting the ground before grabbing the Sentinels by their sides.

098 was still going at a fast speed, and the impact of him hitting the ground was hard -but not as hard as it would have been if he had not used the Sentinels to slow his descent down.

"WATCH OUT, DEMON!" 098 heard Thel roar, and looked up to see the creature falling towards him.

098 quickly jumped out-of-the-way and landed in a combat roll before turning around to see the large creature smash into the ground with its flesh flying everywhere.

At first, 098 thought the two Sentinels didn't make it. But the thought was put aside when he saw them floating behind him via his motion sensor.

"DEMON!" 098 immediately looked up to see the Phantom positioning itself over 098 so its gravity lift would immediately pick him up. 098 assisted with this, and moved under where the gravity lift was just as it activated; and he was sucked into the Phantom's bowls.

"Disengage." 098 ordered as he appeared in the Phantoms bay.

"Anve, brother, get us back up to our brothers." Thel relayed the order.

098 ran over to the side of Thel to see the creatures dead body being melted down by the Sentinel's lasers.

"If there are more of those things in the jungle, I think we should use what the Phantom has left to get us away." Thel recommenced.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 agreed.

098 watched as the creature was melted down to green and yellow goo and slime "Do you have an I.D on contact?" 098 asked.

"What?" Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in annoyance; obviously sick of 098's military slang.

_Allow me to elaborate in Human non-military verbal wording _"Do you know what that thing is?" 098 asked.

"Well," Thel began "If the what the Monarch said is true, than that is a Flood..."


	11. A Glimpse into the Vale

**September 7, 2555 [0934 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**Aboard Unknown ****_Sahara_****-class heavy Prowler.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session 4, begin." West said as he took his seat opposite 098. "When we last left off, you encountered the Flood for the first time."<p>

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 replied.

West grabbed his Data-pad "Most don't survive their first encounter with the Flood."

_SPARTANs are an exception for most topics of elimination _"Sir, inform me of a SPARTAN that has not been eliminated by the Flood." 098 countered.

West simply looked at 098; emotionless "You and Sierra-117 are the only SPARTANs to have encountered the Flood." West elaborated.

_Negative. _098 wanted to say that West was wrong. But _it _did not allow him to.

"Shall we begin where we left off?" West changed the topic.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 nodded.

West let out a sigh; knowing that the chances of the POV being that of 098's was low "Whose POV?" West asked.

"Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee." 098 conformed West's worries.

West sighed "Why do you keep going back to the damn Elites's POV all the time?"

"The Fleet-Master's POV is a priority for the coordinates of Installation 06." 098 clarified.

"You could just tell us_._" West suggested.

_Elaboration of Installation 06's coordinates will lead to immediate and mandatory elimination._

098 knew that no one else that was aboard the UNSC _Kryptonite _knew about the location of Installation 06; he made sure that only he and "_Them_" knew. And "_They_" wouldn't tell ONI the coordinates to Halo -they had every right to refuse ONI.

"I could," Red agreed "but then you would kill me."

"Give us a reason _not to!_" West pleaded. This was the first time Red had seen him act with emotions since yesterday "I don't want to have you killed! You SPARTANs saved Humanity! You don't deserve to die over _some type_ of PTSD!"

_It's not PTSD _"I don't have PTSD." Red corrected West.

"Then why are you like this?!" West questioned Red "The others I have interviewed haven't told me! They haven't told me anything!"

Red also made sure that the members of the UNSC _Kryptonite_ would only tell the ONI agent what he had specified. And they would follow what Red said because the Captain of the ship would do anything to bring ONI down, and would do anything for Red. And her crew would follow her lead until death; they also felt her pain as well.

_Please, just let me tell him! _"If I tell you, I will not face execution," Red mused "But I will face something even worse. But if I continue to tell the story up to the events that led me to this, you may feel for me -because of what happened." West had a confused look on his face. But made no move to interrupt 098 "And hence, I may have an ally to help me in escaping my inevitable fate."

Red took a deep breath _It won't be that simple, will it? _"But even if I wanted to tell you now, _it _Won't let me."

"_It?_" West asked; confused and curious to what Red meant.

"You will know eventually." Red reassured West.

West took a deep breath; calming himself down "I can't help you if you don't help_ me_." He reminded Red.

_I am helping you _"I am helping you," Red reassured him "You just need to be patient; because nothing would please me more than to tell you what is happening. But _it_ won't let me."

West let out a sigh, and looked Red in the eye "This must go deeper than I thought," He realized "I will allow you to continue. But I don't see as to how Vale and Thel are related to this."

_They aren't really related to this _"It's not that they are related to this," Red clarified "in-fact, I have no idea why _it _wants me to tell their stories. I also have no idea as to why _it_ wants to wait until I reach the part about _it _before I tell you about _it_. I find it irrelevant myself. But _it_ -for some reason- does not."

West's face was scrunched up in absolute puzzlement; but Red continued nevertheless "Perhaps _it _likes the intrigue. Per- That's odd, why is _it _letting me speak of _it _like this? _WHY IS_ _IT DOING THIS?!_"

"I don't know if your insane, or if it's something else entirely," West said "But if you _were_ insane, the surviving crew members of the _Kryptonite _would have told me what happened with no struggle... But they haven't explained more than up to the events of your disappearance... _(As I told them) Keyes_, _White_... e_ven Captain Jsarez_ _hasn't said anything_. So I doubt that briefing the other surviving crew members will yield answers -will they?"

_No, they won't _"No." Red confirmed.

"Then I have no choice but to listen through all of this irrelevant stuff until we reach what happens." West concluded.

_Yes. _"I think that is what _it _wants. Hopefully, _it _won't change _it's _mind." Red hoped.

"So your outbursts, aggression, and failure to comply is _not you?_" West questioned.

_No, it isn't me. _"That's right" Red nodded his head to confirm West's theory.

West sighed "For your sake, I will continue to listen to you -even though I find the Elites's side of things _uncomfortable_ -for obvious reasons; if another ONI agent was to interview you... they would not be so _understanding_."

_Acknowledged _"Acknowledged" 098 was back.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1335 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Unknown Halo Array.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>Vale couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't stay still; for Zealot Var had been missing for over two days.<p>

Vale was sitting on his floating chair in his command quarters; watching the holographic console that allowed him to monitor the search parties for Var, while also monitoring the SDV-Class Heavy Corvette that was searching for the Phantom that the Heretics and Demon had commandeered.

Vale's quarters were small -to say the least. It consisted of Vale's single bed; which was directly opposite of the entrance to his portable quarters, a cupboard to the right of his bed that contained simple robes as-well as his ceremonial robes, his holographic armor mannequin in the far left corner from the entrance. On the cold, steel ground was various different colored synthetic rugs -Vale didn't agree in the killing of anything other than those who deserve to die. The cold, purple walls also had curtains covering them which gave Vale a feeling of being at home. Directly to the right of the entrance was Vale's personal console that he was currently using.

Vale felt comfort in his room. But all his thoughts were on Var -and on what could have happened to him.

All he had to do was do a report on the casualties from the battle, then report back to Vale. But he had gone missing.

Vale, or course, immediately went to the Prophet of Pity who simply said "How am I -the noble and most holy Prophet of Pity- meant to know of the location of a single Sangheili?"

But Vale wasn't blind; the anti-gravity well facility was full of Jiralhanae, and the Prophet of Pity already had a personal -and unneeded- hatred towards Var.

Vale had tried on several occasions to try to speak with the Prophet of Pity. But just like when the two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras went missing, he did all in his power to avoid Vale.

Whatever had happened, Vale suspected the Prophet of Pity was behind it; and had already proceeded to send a message to the high Prophet of Truth to get his permission to forcefully retain the Prophet of Pity if it were proven that he was responsible over Var's disappearance.

Vale decided against trying to force his way into the Prophet's quarters; and just wait until the Prophet of Truth replied; and in the meantime, try to locate Var.

But the waiting greatly disturbed Vale; he couldn't sit by, knowing that his most trusted soldier was missing. Vale did, however, know that the search for Var was in the hands of his most trusted friend -Yexyn Sarasai.

Vale and Yexyn both grew up and trained together at the great Iruiru War Collage back on Sangheilos. There they forged a bond that could not be broken. And while Vale exceeded in being a prime tactical commander and strategic genius, Yexyn proved to be one of the best swordsman on Sanghelios -hence the -ai- suffix.

They both graduated with the top skills in the collage; and were separated into different fleets; but they kept close ties, and eventually became reunited when Vale became a Fleet-Master and Yexyn chose to pursue a naval command other than becoming a General, and became a Ship-Master himself.

But Vale doubted that he would have ever been in the great position he was in now if he did not become Kaidon -he would likely had remained a Ship-Master instead. And he became Kaidon because of his intellect, boldness, and quick thinking.

Vale's uncle -or father, but Vale hoped not- became Kaidon. And Vale was the only one to see his uncle -Rsel 'Sarasee- as he truly was -a coward with no honor.

Vale could have been wrong, but he made his move anyway. And he proved to be correct...

* * *

><p><span><strong>January 24, 2509 [2647 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Kaidon's Quarters, Sarasee Keep, State Of Sarasee, Yermo, Sanghelios.**

**Vale 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>"No! <em>Please!<em>" Kaidon Rsel ' Sarasee begged for his life as Vale lowered his energy sword to the cowards neck.

_How could such a coward exist?_

Vale said nothing, and did nothing as the Kaidon's guards came barging into the room.

One of the guards parted his mandibles and roared "What is this?!"

The guard was not roaring at Vale, but the sight of the Kaidon on the floor; begging for his life.

_I shall show the Elders their mistake _"Tell the Elders to remove themselves from their slumber, and make haste to witness me take action when they did not." Vale told the guards who both looked at each other.

"Go, brother." One of the guards nodded to his partner as he turned back around to face Vale while the other guard hurried out of the room.

"Save me!" The Kaidon pleaded to the guard as the guard simply stood there; keeping his energy stave lowered.

_Is he but a fool as well? Does the Kaidon not know of what happens in this situation _"Do you know nothing of your own traditions?" Vale questioned the Kaidon as he let his energy sword slight touch the Kaidon's flesh before he bought it away in order to prevent any further damage; leaving a small burn mark where the blade touched the Kaidon's skin.

The Kaidon, of course, did not answer and proceeded to continue pleading for his life until another one of Vale's uncles -Yue 'Sarasee- came rushing into the room with his own personal guards right behind him.

"_Vale?!_" Yue parted his Mandibles and exclaimed "What is the meaning of this?!

_It is but only justice_ "I decided to act when the Elders did not proceed to do so." Vale explained his actions.

"It is not in your jurisdiction to do so." Yue reminded Vale with an aggressive snap of his mandibles.

_I may have just saved this Lineage a large amount of dishonor. Why do you not see this? _"I acted when no Elder proceeded to do so," Vale explained as another Elder -Celra 'Sarasee- came rushing into the room "If I did not act, only the Forerunners know what dishonor this coward may have done."

"Brothers, what is this?" Celra asked.

"Brother Vale has taken it upon himself to remove the apparent _weak_ Kaidon from his position." Yue elaborated to Celra.

_Apparent? is him not on the floor with his hands in the air not evidence enough of him being a coward?_

"Weak?" Celra put his hands on his lower mandibles as if trying to figure something out.

_His pleading may help support my claim. Why has he stopped? _Out of all the time of talking, the Kaidon had remained silent. Vale figured he must have realized that he was dead; but he proceeded to begin pleading a mere mini-moment after the thought came into Vale's mind.

"Help me, brothers." The Kaidon pleaded as two more Elders rushed into the room.

"We are not your brothers." Celra snapped his mandibles at the Kaidon.

_Now they see._

"What is happening, brothers?" One of the new Elders by the name of Isan 'Sarasee asked.

"Brother Vale has bested the Kaidon." Yue elaborated to the two new Elders that had joined them.

"You overwhelmed the Kaidon yourself?" One of the Elders name Ji 'Sarasee questioned Vale while cocking his head in puzzlement and curiosity.

_Yes. Yes I did. _"It was not easy, holy Elders. And I in no way took him off guard." Vale explained as he bought his blade closer to the Kaidon's neck; ready to strike at any moment.

"How is your combat experience, young one?" Isan curiously clicked his mandibles.

_I hold little experience. This will not go good for the Kaidon's reputation -if his pleading did not already sentence his image to dishonor _"I have the 'ee' to my name. But I am but a Minor in the Covenant military," Vale elaborated "But I have been known to be one of the best graduates from the great Iruiru War Collage. But that is more in tactics and strategic intelligence rather than combat experience. But my combat tutor believes I will rise in the ranks much faster than average."

Vale hadn't had his hopes up about his achievements in the War Collage being known throughout the State. It was still annoying that Yue -the one Vale hoped was his father the most- had no idea. And did not proceed to find out about Vale's graduation stats.

"A young Minor defeating a Kaidon of the Field Marshal rank in combat?" Ji mused with his hand on his lower mandibles as the last of the Elders hurried into the room.

"What do my eyes behold?!" One of the new three Elders -Rel 'Sarasee- exclaimed.

"What do you think?" Another one of the new Elders name Zarhal 'Sarasee snapped his mandibles at Rel.

"Many things, brother." Rel calmly replied.

"Help me." The Kaidon pleaded again.

"Oh, _I see!_" Rel finally realized what was happening.

"How could we be so foolish." Ji shamefully said.

Most of the other Elders mumbled in agreements.

_This is belaying the inevitable _"We all make mistakes, holy Elders," Vale began as he quickly but swiftly pushed his energy sword through the Kaidon's neck "But your past mistakes matter little as long as you do all in your possible power to prevent those mistakes from happening again." Vale swiftly swiped his blade out of the Kaidon's neck as purple blood began pouring out of his wounds and mouth, and deactivated his energy sword and sheathed it on his left thigh.

"Spoken masterfully, Vale," Yue nodded as he approached Vale and placed his right hand on Vale's shoulder "I do not believe that one so talented should be executed over our sins."

The Elders muttered in agreement.

_So I shall survive this _Vale highly thought that his life would be ended for his actions. And if it were to happen, he would embrace hid death with honor.

"I still will not forgive hims for one thing." Isan muttered.

Yue immediately removed his hand from Vale's shoulder and snapped around to face the Elder who was speaking out "What did you say, brother?" He sternly asked Isan.

_Has enough blood not been spilled?_

"He inflicted on us the multiple rotations of hard political duties." Isan jested with the other Elders -even Yue- chuckling at his comment.

_But a friendly jest. Thank the Gods no more blood needs to be spilled over senseless violence._

"A just punishment for our blindness." Yue happily clicked his mandibles as Vale came up besides him.

_Blindness? I think not _"Not blindness, holy Elders," Vale shook his head "Even I was took under the spell of his deceiving words," Vale turned and began pointing at the Kaidon's bloodied body "Sooner or later you would have seen through his lies. But perhaps my young age allowed me to see his lies before you."

The Elders chuckled at what Vale had just said.

Normally Sangheili at Vale's age would not interest themselves in politics. Vale, however, always kept a keen eye on anything political. Vale was happy he did so, and he was sure that the Elders were happy as well.

Yue turned back around to face Vale "You would make a fine Elder," He placed a reassuring hand on Vale's shoulder _He says that so bluntly_ "And a better Kaidon."

The Elders muttered in agreement.

_Do they really all agree that I will make a fine politic?_

"Elder Yue -with all do respect- things have not reached the time to speak of such things," Vale reminded the Elders as he turned to look at the Kaidon's body again _He knew someone was coming. He was shocked when he saw me, yes. But he still proceeded to spring multiple traps he had set up. How could he get so far when he is so weak? _"But I appreciate your beliefs in me."

"Well of course!" Celra broke in; clicking his mandibles in excitement "You, brother, have saved us a great deal of dishonor!"

_It is good to know that my actions are appreciated rather than hated._

"Yes," Yue agreed with a couple of the other Elders saying 'yes' at the same time "Let the Sarasee Lineage never fall under the deception of lies ever again!"

"Guards, put his body in a Phantom and dump him in the sea," Ji ordered the guards "It is going to be a busy couple of days."

Vale turned around and took one last look at the Kaidons body before the guards picked the body up and made their way out of the room.

_If I am to become Kaidon in the future, I will make sure I keep my word, and never lie. And I will use this as an example of the weak making lies. I may have fallen for the Kaidon's lies at first; but I will make sure I never fall for anyone's lies again..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1401 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Unknown Halo Array.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>"Fleet-Master!"<p>

Vale quickly came to his senses and looked away from his console to see General Trerx 'Huldamee standing in the doorway.

_Have they found Var? The Heretics? _"What is it, brother?" Vale calmly asked as he docked his floating chair in its port to stable it, and hop off of it "Have you found Zealot Var? Or the Heretics?"

"We have found and engaged the Heretics but that is not the problem, brother," Trerx informed Vale as he made his way to his armor stand _Then what is it? "_We have detected a rupture in the Void. And have spotted a Human Ship is above the sacred ring."


	12. The Kryptonite Deus Ex Machina

**November 7, 2547 [1335 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**Aboard Covenant Type-52 troop carrier, Unknown Location, Unknown Halo Array.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"Can I have my energy sword back?" Thel asked while 098 watched as the hulking creature -that Thel believes was a Flood combat form- was finally melted down into nothing but yellow and green goo, matter, and gore.<p>

098 immediately took the energy sword on his thigh and passed it to Thel; all the while keeping his DMR trained on the dead creature.

"It is but dead, you know." Thel reminded 098 with a few clicks of its hidden mandibles as it took one hand off of the plasma turret to grab its sword and sheath it.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 finally lowered his DMR and slung it back over his back with the sound of magnets connecting together reassuring him that his weapon was secure.

The Sentinels melting down the Flood combat forms body began to leave it, with the Monarch's Sentinels making their way up to the cliff face with the rest of the Diverted force on, and the ring's Sentinels splitting up with some going up to the cliff, and others going towards where the other Flood creature was that 098 first spotted before he was dragged down the cliff.

"Demon, assist with getting the soldiers in." Thel told 098 as it left the plasma turret and made its way towards the entrance to the Phantom's cockpit.

_Affirmative. _098 didn't reply -for Thel was out of earshot- and went over to the gravity lift that was in the middle of the Phantom's bay before using it to be lowered to the cliffs ground -where all the Diverted forces and the bigger Sentinel were waiting.

"Reclaimer, what happened?" An Elite named Suras 'Johanamee questioned him.

Suras was the only Elite left of the group that called 098 a 'Reclaimer'. 098 figured this was a good thing since the Monarch stated the Reclaimers were the inheritors to their Gods creations. And while basically all of the Diverted no longer worshiped the Forerunners; Suras still did, which meant that it thought 098 as its leader. 098 figured out earlier that he was safe from this particular Elite -if any trouble between him and the Diverted was to go down.

_Allow me to elaborate _"Possible contact and engagement with Alien species -designated Flood: combat form. Immediate EVAC is priority one." 098 explained and realized too late that the alien soldiers wouldn't have known what he said.

"What?" Freyn asked; cocking its head in puzzlement while twitching its mandibles.

_Allow me to elaborate in Human non-military verbal wording_ "We made contact and engaged a possible Flood combat form; and us leaving this area is the main focus at the moment." 098 calmly clarified.

"I still not get it." A Grunt by the name of Ulpad shrugged with an Elite by the name of Jol 'Turasee slapping the Grunt over the head in annoyance of the small creature.

_Disengaging from irrelevant elaboration._

098 turned when he heard the hovering of the Monarch's 4 Sentinels -as well as seeing their blips on his motion sensor.

"Embark on the Type-52 troop carrier." 098 pointed at the Phantom with the Sentinels immediately doing what he told them to before 098 turned back around to face the Diverted soldiers that had gathered around him "Embark-"

"DEMON!" Thel roared before 098 could continue.

_Possible red status situation _098 quickly looked up to see Thel was peering out of the Phantom's left bay door; looking down at them.

"The corvette has spotted us!" It roared again "It is descending on us! Embark the Phantom _NOW!_"

_SDV-Class Heavy Corvette: Roles: Advance reconnaissance, ship-to-ship warfare, ground assault, aerial support. Length: 956 meters. Width: 399 Meters. Height: 175 Meters. Known armaments: 6 full-sized plasma torpedoes, 12 pulse laser turrets. Threat level: high._

098 quickly turned back to face the Diverted soldiers _Need assistance of single Diverted Minor class Elite in gathering Type-52 Guided Munitions Launcher; possibility of Lighter Than Some resisting embarking order: average_ "Embark the Type-52 troop carrier, now!" He ordered before turning and pointing at Freyn "Assist me in gathering the T52 GML." 098 rushed over to where the Diverted had stacked all of their supplies when they were disembarked the Phantom; Freyn right behind him.

098 chose Freyn because it only had a plasma rifle and pistol on its thigh; allowing it to have one plasma launcher on its back while carrying two more in its hands. 098 figured that they could save 5 of the 7 plasma launchers.

098 came to a sudden stop near the stockpile, and immediately ignored all of the plasma grenades, rifles, carbines, pistols, and other weapons and equipment that could useful later, and quickly picked up a plasma launcher and tossed it to Freyn before picking up two more -one in each hand- while Freyn slung the plasma launcher 098 tossed it over its back before picking up two more -one in each hand- and making its way towards the Phantom's gravity lift.

098 quickly turned to see that the Jackal named Cek, and the Elite named Suras were having trouble with Lighter.

_Possibility of Lighter Than Some resisting embarking order: Certain._

The Huragok seemed to be freaked out by all of the sudden commotion, and didn't want to go into the Phantom. And it didn't look like Cek and Suras -now joined by another Jackal named Kri- were getting very far with trying to push Lighter in.

"WE NEED TO GO_ NOW!_" Thel roared at the units still on the ground.

_Possible physical engagement essential to Lighter Than Some's survival _098 went at full speed -slower than usual due to him holding the plasma launchers- and waved the Diverted soldiers struggling with the Huragok out-of-the-way as he slammed into the Huragok; with the impact being so hard that it knocked Lighter a few feet and under the gravity life where it floated into the Phantom's bowls with a scared shriek.

"Embark! Now!" 098 ordered the last of the Diverted soldiers as he floated up into the Phantom; with Cek, Kri, Suras, and Freyn appearing after him but moments later.

"GO!" Thel roared as it hurried towards the cockpit "And raise the bay doors!"

098 had to brace himself as the Phantom made a sharp turn before he dropped one of the plasma launchers, and made his way to where the gap in the Phantom's right bay door will be. And looked out to analyze the situation.

The corvette was speeding after them. And dozens of aircraft that 098's HUD identified as Seraphs, Banshees, Vampires, and Liches were pouring out of the corvette's hangers.

098 turned when he heard an electronic crackling, and saw that it was just Freyn breaking the turret off of the Phantom's left bay door so it had room to shoot at pursuing aircraft as-well.

"Make room." Kri hissed at 098 as it positioned itself -equipped with a plasma launcher- next to 098.

098 made room -while ignoring Kri's aggression- and observed the ring's Sentinels -including the large one that was jamming the corvette's sensors and radars- making their way towards the corvette.

"They will not defeat an adversary of that size." Kri stated as it steadied its weapon.

And just as Kri said that: the tops of distant Forerunner towers shifted open to have thousands of Sentinels pour out.

Kri let out a happy screech but just after he did, the corvette opened fire with its plasma and pulse turrets -obliterating the swarms of Sentinels.

_Effective weapon against Sentinel shields: Plasma. Past theories confirmed._

Kri let out a screech that was mixed with horror, anger, annoyance, and fear; with the Elites letting out roars of rage and annoyance as-well.

_Possibility of elimination: extremely high._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Reh 'Ivantee...<strong>

* * *

><p>The Phantom that contained the Heretics and Demons must had been wavering -for its speed was not fast enough to escape Ship-Master Reh 'Ivantee's wraith.<p>

Heretics were a diversion along the Great Journey; a disease as bad as the Humans. They had to be stopped, of course; and Reh would do so willingly; but not without annoyance.

"Sentinels!" One of Reh's sensor officers by the name of Ike 'Tumlanee shouted with his mandibles twitching nervously.

"The peaks of certain Forerunner towers are shifting to open up. That is where the Sentinels are making haste from." Another one of Reh's sensor officers -Uro 'Nuldunee- added.

_Are they the holy servants of out Gods? Or the Heretic Oracle? _"Are they making haste towards us, brothers?" Reh asked Ike with a couple of clicks of his mandibles.

"Yes, Ship-Master." He nodded; not taking his eyes off of the controls.

_Then me must act with haste less they are Heretics _"Then fire at will. Destroy them while they are hunched together! But make sure they are far enough away from the tower that our bombardment will not hit the towers!" Reh ordered with a snap of his mandibles; with the sounds of turrets being fired throughout the ship immediately after his order was given; signalling that they were complying.

"Impact!" Reh's weapons status officer called Hulna 'Lodamee reported; keeping his eyes on the controls "The Heretic Sentinels are falling with such grace to put our minds at ease."

_Excellent! _"Continue, brothers, with the hard pressure!" Reh slammed his gloved hand down on his command chair's soft armrest "Destroy the Heretic Sentinels! Then destroy the Heretics and Demon!"

Reh's bridge crew let out roars of agreement and continued to go about their business; monitoring the sensors, commanding the turret teams, piloting the corvette, and giving orders to the crew around the ship.

"Ship-Master, the Sentinels are going down at an acceptable rate," One of Reh's external activity officer by the name of Frel 'Duldamee reported in "But they are endless. I do not believe we can shift the _Linear Grace's _fire from the Sentinels."

_Then we do not have to worry about the aerial engagement being hit by out flak _"Send forth all aerial units, brothers," Reh ordered with a quick snap of his mandibles "Bring the Heretics down!"

The bridge was suddenly full with the sounds of the bridge crew clicking their mandibles and roaring in approval.

"Orders sent, Ship-Master." Reh's communications officers named Hev 'Berakee reported.

_Perfect. I have been blessed with such a competent crew _"I shall make the Prophet's reward for the Heretics death universal to this entire crew." Thel assured the bridge crew with multiple excited roars telling him that he had made the days of quite a few of his brothers _There is no better feeling for a leader, than to know that his men love him._

"Many Banshees are being shot down by plasma launchers within the Phantom," Frel reported "But the Liches, Vampires, and Seraphs are causing extensive damage."

_We need to pull all non shielded aerial forces out _"Pull the Banshees back. I do not wish any brothers to die in necessary fashion." Reh ordered.

"Order sent, Ship-Master." Hev reported.

_Such haste puts my mind at ease in such a tension stricken time. I am but only blessed by the holy Forerunners._

"Sentinels are still persisting to engage us." Uro reported.

_It is best for me to inform him that I do not need to know this knowledge at such a rate _"Inform me if anything changes; but not an update on facts I already know, brother." Reh calmly told him.

"Yes, Ship-Master, forgive me, Ship-Master." Uro apologized with a nervous twitch of his mandibles.

_I best set his conscience at ease _"There is no need to apologize." Reh calmly told him "You-"

"IMPACT!" Hulna roared; interrupting Reh "The Heretic's Phantom is damaged and is going down."

_Excellent_ "Pull the aerial units back," Thel exciting clicked his mandibles "We shall destroy the crash site with a bombardment of our flak."

"Impossible," Ike quickly broke in "The Heretics managed to crash their Phantom near a holy Forerunner complex within the dark depths of the jungle. Bombardment may damage the God's complex."

_This makes thing difficult._

"They must have been planning this." Hev mused.

_Of course! They will be safe in such a holy location _"Agreed," Reh nodded "There is no doubt in my mind that they were planning this."

"Orders, Ship-Master?" Hev asked.

"Can our aerial units finish off the Heretics?" Reh asked.

"No, Ship-Master," Ike answered as he changed the large hologram of the nearby jungles and mountains in the bridge's center to a hologram of the crash site "The Heretics crashed right next to a ramp that leads to a large bunker built into the complex's walls. They but only need to exit the Phantom's right side and make haste up the ramp that leads to the bunker, and they would be under cover."

"Our Banshees are the only aerial units that are able to maneuver to reach them," Uro added "But the plasma launchers will bring them down with deadly grace before they could act."

"Shooting within the gap that is in between the Phantom and the bunker's ramp is also impossible at the angle." Ike added.

_We need to prevent the deaths of brothers if we can _"Pull all aerial units save the Liches back," Reh ordered "The Vampires and Seraphs are to maintain sentry and bombard any Heretic they see -their flak shall not damage the complex. The Banshees are at risk; pull them back. Also send in Wraiths with haste to provide supporting bombardment that shall not damage the complex _(I may have to send some of our minor brothers to their death) _And gather all of the Yanme'e, Mgalekgolo and Kig-Yar aboard and send them with much haste to the crash site. The Kig-Yar are to provide sniper support while the slave forces move in with haste. They are but slaves and mercenaries... but their deaths shall secure their place along the holy Great Journey.

"Let them earn their holy spot along the blessed Great Journey." Hev agreed with a few clicks of his mandibles as he sent the orders.

_I must know of what my men shall face _"What of the surviving Heretics?" Reh asked his sensor officers.

"Impact was but minor," Uro reported "The Phantom is damaged beyond further use without repair. But from what the aerial units have reported, the entire Heretic force -along with the Demon- survived the crash."

_Their tactical minds is not helping with my tension _"Continue with my previous orders with haste," Reh ordered "By the hours end, the Heretics will be dead!"

* * *

><p><span><strong>Thel 'Lodamee...<strong>

* * *

><p>Thel heard a distant voice calling his name. He couldn't make out whose voice it was. But it was definitely Sangheili.<p>

"Brother?! Come to your senses!" The voice roared at Thel.

_Anve? Oh preserve me _Thel immediately opened his eyes to see nothing but cracks along his visor "What happened?" Thel asked as he removed his helmet to see that he was slumped in the cockpit's co-pilot's seat with the Phantom's consoles red in alerts and warnings, the heat of a small fire from his console waving over his face, and the sound of electronic static of the consoles going haywire in his mind.

"We were hit and the impact from the attack sent your head into the consoles -knocking you out." Anve explained as he helped Thel out of his chair.

_So we have crashed? But where? _"Did we reach the facility?" Thel asked as he threw his damaged helmet away and grabbed his carbine from its position next to his chair.

"Yes, brother," Anve nodded "We are so close to it that we can disembark the Phantom and go straight to cover without the chance of being hit."

_How fortunate. Wait... casualties _"Did we all make it?" Thel asked as he began to slowly make his way up the Phantom's ramp that connected the cockpit to the bay.

"Yes," Thel heard Anve click his mandibles from behind him "They are all setting up a defensive position in a small bunker within the compound of the facility. I stayed behind in an attempt to wake you from your forced slumber before the attacking aircraft destroy the wreckage."

_Our fortune is great. Let us hope it can stay that way _"The pursuers?" Thel asked as he entered the wrecked bay with Anve right behind him.

"The Banshees are heading back to the corvette," Anve began as they made their way to the Phantom bay's right door "The Vampires and Seraphs have pulled back, but have not left the area. The Liches are raised above the facility -acting as sentries."

"Anything else, brother?" Thel asked as he prepared to leap out of the Phantom and hurry to the bunker.

"No." Anve shook his head as he too prepared to leap out of the Phantom.

By what Thel could see, the Phantom hit the ground and continued moving along the jungle's floor for a few mini-moments before stopping. Trees were knocked down by the crash which left a large opening for Covenant aircraft to attack them. But the nearby Forerunner facility shadowed the crash site with its overbearing design. And the compound around the facility was rather large with towers, bunkers, and open buildings that were like back at the anti-gravity well facility. But there was no perimeter walls around the compound which posed a problem for Thel and the Diverted.

The bunker that the Demon and the rest of the Diverted force was held up in was built into the exterior wall of the facility, with it being built above the ground with a ramp leading up to it. Thankfully, the ramp was just in reach from the Phantom.

"Make haste. Do not stop if I am by chance hit." Thel told Anve as he slung his carbine over his back and leaped out of the Phantom's bay; hitting the ground and entering a combat roll before exiting the roll and racing up the ramp and into the bunker with Anve right behind him and no hostile plasma coming their way.

"You made it." Freyn said as Thel took his carbine off of his back and went over to the opening in the bunkers wall that showed the ring's Sentinels were no longer exiting the towers -they were likely all destroyed, or they retreated. Thel also saw the corvette speeding over the mountain they were on earlier, and a large amount of Phantom's leaving its hangers _They are sending in too many Phantoms for it to be a couple of simple strike teams._

Thel turned around to face the Demon "Demon, come and behold this." Thel waved the creature over with it immediately complying.

"What do you see?" Thel asked the Demon as it looked out of the opening.

From what Thel knew: the Demon could manipulate its visor to see in the distance. The eye covers that Sangheili had allowed this as-well. Though, it was limited with only allowing the Sangheili to zoom with the scope of their weapons that were hooked up to the Sangheili's interface. The weapons ammo and other stats would display as soon as the Sangheili scans his finger along a tiny sensor along each Covenant weapon which would show the stats of the weapon on the Sangheili's interface. This system was also meant to prevent enemies from using the weapons, but the Humans must had bypass it for Thel had seen Human soldiers wielding Covenant weapons. Thel believed that the Humans had a similar system for their helmet's interfaces, but was must more diverse.

"17 Type-52 class troop carriers. Luggage: Unknown. Drones are flying around the Phantoms." The demon reported.

_What did the damn thing say? _"What?" Thel clicked his mandibles in annoyance _Does this damn creature not learn?_

"I see 17 Phantoms and I do not know what they are carrying; but I see Drones flying around the Phantoms." The Demon explained; with Thel still not understanding what '_Drones_' were.

_What is a damn Drone? For the sake's of the dead Forerunners! Why is this Demon so cryptic? _"Drones?" Thel asked in annoyance.

"Designated: Yanme'e." The Demon clarified as it backed away from the opening "Phantom's ETA 2 minutes," _I still have no idea what you are speaking! _Thel was about to ask what the Demon was talking about now, when it continued "Or: The Phantoms will be here in two moments."

_Is it but jesting? _Thel quickly set the thought aside and turned to address his men that were converging around him "brothers," Thel began "We are going to die _(I must be blunt) _The Sentinels of this ring cannot assist us -even if they but tried again, the corvette would only destroy them again."

The Diverted began mumble in worried tones with the Unggoy barking in terror, the Kig-Yar screeching in annoyance about how they just wished the Covenant never found their home-world, and the Sangheili clicking and twitching their mandibles in fear of the coming eternal darkness.

_They do not deserve such a dark fate. Why has our fortune run out? _"I understand you may be in fear," Thel continued as he placed a reassuring hand on Anve's shaking shoulder "I am scared too."

Jol began shaking terribly "_I do not wish to die!_" He cried in fear "_I do not want to face the eternal darkness!_"

Thel had never witnessed the tears of a Sangheili before. It was a fearful alien site _The Prophet's lies have pushed us down to nothing but blubbering cowards _Thel was not mad at Jol for his fear. All Sangheili lived on the belief that the darkness of death was only temporarily. And that if you walked the blessed path, you will see paradise.

"_I want to see our home!_" Jol cried as he quickly leaned against a nearby wall to support himself "_I want to feel my wife's embrace with the heat of Sanghelio's sun on my face!_"

"Coward!" Cek hissed at Jol with Freyn landing a hit across the Jackals beak before he went over and placed a hand on Jol's shaking shoulder with Thel and the rest of the Sangheili -even the Huragok- moving over to support him as-well.

"Brother," Anve said "We are with you to the end."

The Huragok let out a little moan as it stroked Jol with its tentacles _How could we be blinded to harm such peaceful and caring creatures?_

"The Phantoms are here." The Demon announced as it took cover by the opening with Thel and the Diverted soldiers breaking up and taking cover as-well.

_So the end to our journey begins so soon _"BROTHERS!" Thel roared "IF WE ARE TO DIE! LET US DIE WITH HONOR!"

All of the Diverted -even the Kig-Yar and Unggoy and even Jol- roared in agreement _Let us face our death with the honor we deserve._

The Demon peered out of cover and quickly ducked back in when a volley of plasma hit the bunker's walls "Yanme'e and Mgalekgolo," The Demon reported "Nothing else but a few Kig-Yar in the distance that will provide sniper support. I recommend keeping your heads down."

_A wise tactical move by the Ship-Master of that corvette._

Plasma began to explode on the bunker's walls as the sound of Yanme'e chirping and screeching became closer and closer until about 5 Yanme'e came through the opening with the entire Diverted force opening fire.

_DAMN STUPID CREATURES! _Thel immediately dropped his plasma rifle and drew his energy sword before swinging it up and cutting a passing Yanme'e in-half with its insect innards spilling all over Thel and his armor.

Thel turned to see another Yanme'e pick up a Unggoy off of the ground and snap its little neck before a projectile from the Demon hit the insect; splitting it apart in a mist of green flesh and blood.

More and more Yanme'e flooded into the bunker with plasma, needler, Human projectiles, and Sentinel lasers appearing all around the small bunker _This is chaos! _"WATCH YOUR FIRE!" Thel roared above the sounds of gunfire and Yanme'e screeching.

Suddenly, before things could turn into even more chaos, a blinding light and a deafening sound filled the bunker with the sounds of the Demon shooting with its pistol and the dying screeches of the Yanme'e.

_What... hap- happened! _Thel's head was ringing with the sound of a bang flashing through his mind and his eyes gradually began to stop seeing white.

"STAY DOWN!" The Demon yelled over the sounds of gunfire, the fearful shrieking of the Huragok, and screeching of dying Yanme'e as Thel began to see the dead bodies of at least a dozen Yanme'e along with the dead bodies of Cek who had a gaping hole in his head from where -what Thel assumed- a needler projectile hit his head and exploded. A Unggoy by the name of Grepyap who had its neck broken by a Yanme'e. And a destroyed Sentinel that seemed to had been pulled apart by the Yanme'e.

"What happened?" Thel asked as he quickly helped Anve -who still couldn't see- back into cover.

"Stun grenade." The Demon replied.

_A stun grenade? Rek would have said 'that explains a lot'_

"Damn insects got me!" Jol roared.

_What? _Thel turned around in a panic to see Jol had a lot of scratches along the parts of his body that were not covered by armor, his lower right mandibles was ripped off and blood was gushing from the wound, At least three of his fingers were missing, and there was a large plasma wound in his gut.

_WHY IS THE UNIVERSE SO IRONIC! WHY IS EVERYTHING A JEST TO IT! _Thel immediately crawled over to Jol who was bleeding profusely "Brother." Thel sadly said as he checked Jol's wounds with the sounds of the Mgalekgolo shooting at the bunker again; but suddenly, there was a hissing sound and Thel turned to see a hard-light shield was covering the opening.

There was no terminal in the bunker, so Thel came to one conclusion _The Monitor! It guards us!_

"We may let live, brother." Freyn happily clicked his mandibles as the Demon hurried over to where Jol and Thel were and began to tear the cloth of his ammo pouches.

"This will only stop the bleeding." It stated as it began to patch up some of Jol's more serious wounds.

"Thank you, Demon." Jol weakly nodded his head at the Demon _This is an odd and uncomfortable situation. But I am glad of its assistance._

Thel and the other Diverted soldiers had wound as well. Each Diverted soldier had scratches large and small along their bodies, but many had more serious wounds. A Unggoy appeared to be missing one of his fingers and was huddled in a corner with his kin comforting it. Kri had many of its spines along its body torn, along with a large scratch along its head. Freyn had a large scratch along his neck and another large scratch across his arm which appeared to be giving him much pain since he was holding it tightly. Another Unggoy's left leg was greatly dislocated, but it was an Ultra, and seemed to be holding itself together really well for a Unggoy. Anve had only minor scratches, but seemed to be really dizzy from the stun grenade. The Huragok seemed okay since it was mostly cowering in a corner, but it was missing half of one of its tentacles, and had a few scratches over it. Suras was fine with only a few scratches; Thel guessed he got less attacked by his position. Another Unggoy was cradling a broken arm, but seemed more focused on kicking the dead Yanme'e that broke his arm than focusing on the pain. The rest of the Unggoy seemed fine with the Sangheili, Demon, and Kig-Yar being the main focus of the Yanme'e. The Demon was fine due to the fact that it was heavily armored in all places. Thel still had no idea how it could move around in such armor.

Despite the hard-light shields, the Mgalekgolo seemed to be still bombarding the bunker.

A thought suddenly came to Thel _The entrance! _Thel quickly got up from his crouched position next to Jol, and quickly rushed around a corner and into the corridor that led to the bunker's entrance to see a hard-light shield was over the entrance as-well _Our fortune has come back!_

"Ultra?" Jol called.

_Oh, yes. I was in a hurry _"I shall be with you in a moment." Thel answered as he turned and made his way back into the depths of the bunker.

"You were off in a hurry," Jol observed "What was the problem?"

"I was checking the entrance to this bunker," Thel explained his quick panic as he crouched back near Jol -who was now be tended to by Suras as-well "Now you should not speak -less you harm yourself."

Jol happily clicked his mandibles and nodded before he rested his head back.

"So, how shall we leave this place?" Freyn asked as Thel's motion sensor showed that he appeared to be looking out of the opening -observing the outside enemy forces.

_If only I knew _"I do not know." Thel said as the Demon finished tending to Jol and got up and went over to tend to the other wounded Diverted soldiers.

"Well I do," Freyn excitingly announced "We need not do anything; for a Human ship has just exited the void."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Red-098...<span>**

* * *

><p>"<em>WHAT?!<em>" Thel exclaimed as it got up from next to Jol and rushed over to the opening in the bunker that was covered in a hard-light shield.

_Possibility of frigate class of ship arriving at Alien -designated: Forerunner- world installation -designated: Halo- zero percent via Intel received from Forerunner A.I -designated: The Monarch._

"_HOW?!_" Thel roared as the rest of the Diverted soldiers hurried up to the opening.

"I want see!" The Grunt with the missing finger 98 was tending to excitingly barked as it tried to squeeze out of 098's grip.

_Disengagement from medical treatment not recommended _"Do not disengage from my treatment." 098 told the Grunt that was named Teped.

Teped turned to face 098 "What you say?" Teped asked.

_Allow me to elaborate in Human non-military verbal wording _"Do not move." 098 sternly told the Grunt who began to shake in fear.

_Elaboration of visuals required _"Elaborate visuals." 098 told the Diverted soldiers that were gathered around the bunker's protected opening.

"The ship is speeding towards the corvette." Anve elaborated.

"The corvette is trying to move with haste to attack it -but it is too slow." Suras added.

"All aerial units around the facility are retreating back to the corvette." Freyn added as 098 finished tending to Teped and let it go of his grasp to have it hurry over to the opening with 098 in tow.

The Diverted soldiers seemed to be all focused on the sight so 098 decided to go tend to the wounded Huragok.

"The ship is moving in fast for the attack." Anve continued to elaborate what was happening.

_Speed of engagement equals frigate possibility: certain._

Lighter immediately held its arm out as 098 approached, all the while letting out pained moans and shrieks _Minor injuries: irrelevant. Major injuries: missing tentacle._

098 took what was left of Lighter's tentacle in his hands, and began wrapping cloth from his ammo pouches around the stump.

"It has shot the corvette, Reclaimer!" Suras roared in excitement _Possibility of use of MAC in current engagement: certain_ "The corvette has taken a direct hit, and is going down!"

098 suddenly heard static over his COM "UN... A... Tim... Ple..."

_Unknown UNSC ship attempting to make verbal contact _098 quickly got up and hurried over to Suras "Assist Huragok -designated Lighter Than Some." 098 told the Elite as he passed it what remained of his ammo pouches with it immediately nodding and taking it.

"This is UNSC SPARTAN Sierra-098," 098 began tuning his COM "Please respond -how copy, over?"

098 heard a voice over his COM "This is UNSC A.I Timmy. Service number: TMY 5126-8. I am responding to your recent transmission. Please repeat your previous transmission."

098 looked up to see the corvette exploding and falling out of the sky as the Charon-class frigate -that 098's IFF designated as the UNSC _Kryptonite- _began to descend over the mountain that the corvette was just on -coming to them.

"The Monarch must be aboard if they know where we are." Anve stated.

"This is UNSC SPARTAN Sierra-098," 098 repeated "Please respond -how copy, over?"

"Solid copy, Sierra," The A.I designated 'Timmy' replied over the COM "Three Pelicans are inbound. Standby for- Do you have to bother me? _(Unknown topic) _Hey! Get out of the system, damn it! _(Elaboration may be necessary_ Oh for the love of- Sierra, we got this Alien A.I who wants to speak with you. It's on the COM now."

"Reclaimer, Are you alright?" The Monarch asked.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative," 098 relied as 098 put his COM on speaker "Please elaborate on status."

"The Reclaimers of this ship know all I can tell them," The Monarch began as Thel and the rest of the Diverted soldiers came over to him "The drop-ships coming down to pick you up know that you have Covenant separatists with you, and were ordered by the ships Captain to not attack them."

"That is good news." Thel stated as it began to scratch at a wound it had on its head.

"Tell the Monarch to warn them about the enemies out there." Freyn pointed towards the bunker's opening.

_Irrelevant _"Irrelevant. Long-range motion sensors equipped within the D77-TC." 098 explained.

"Rek would have said 'that explains a lot'." Suras chuckled with the other Elites chuckling along with him.

098 looked out the opening to see the aerial Covenant vehicles were being shot down by the _Kryptonite's _guns "You have arrived earlier than specified." 098 stated to the Monarch.

"How early?" The Monarch asked "How many days has it been since I went through the portal?"

_Allow me to elaborate _"Nearly four days."

"Perfect!" The Monarch said "I was thinking it would take longer."

_Elaboration required _"Elaborate." 098 told the Monarch.

"I will do so later, Reclaimer. Now is not the time -for it will take to long." The Monarch replied.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 replied as he saw three Pelicans approach the facility and watched as they began to engage the Hunters and Drones -easily eliminating them.

"I shall proceed to elaborate the situation to UNSC forces. Do not proceed to follow me." 098 told the Diverted as he went to exit the bunker.

"Sierra, this is Pelican drop-ship: Charlie-42," A male voice came over 098's COM as he came to the entrance to the bunker "Me along with the rest of the boys from the _Kryptonite _are here to give you a lift home. Tell your Elite buddies that we _come in peace_."

_Irrelevant _"Irrelevant. They proceed to know this via the Monarch." 098 replied over his COM.

"How did the Monarch tell you?" Another male voice came over the COM.

"Possibility of the Monarch hacking the COM channel: certain." 098 explained.

"What did he say?" The male voice -that 098's IFF recognized as Lieutenant Reilly Cross- asked as 098 came out of the bunker to see dead Hunters and Drones littering the ground with the three Pelicans slowly descending into the opening in the jungle's trees caused by the Phantom crashing.

_Allow me to el-_

"He said that he is certain that the damn Monarch hacked the COM channel." 098 heard a familiar voice clarify for him.

_Master Sergeant Jeff Woods. Voice analyses and IFF confirm _098's further thoughts of him being wrong were quenched when the second Pelican blood-tray's door opened to reveal the ODST and along with other ODSTs that were not part of team Vintage.

The ODSTs hopped out of the Pelican with their guns raised, and went about securing the area -except Woods, who approached 098 "You made it." Woods nodded as he stopped in front of 098.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 nodded.

Despite 098 thinking that Woods was a soldier who let personal feelings blind him, he was glad to see him.

"Clad didn't think it was you. Wong, however, never gave up hope." Woods said; keeping his head lowered for some reason.

_Possibility of PTSD: high. Reasons: elaboration required _"What is team Vintage's status?" 098 questioned Woods.

"There was another Covenant scouting team as we exited the facility," Woods explained in a soft voice "They intercepted us and killed everyone but me. I only survived because we managed to radio in to Clad and Wong that we needed EVAC. They were so close."

_Irrelevant. Data status priority one _"What is the data's status?" 098 questioned.

"We were in a hurry and didn't have any chance to destroy it," Woods explained; again, in a soft voice "Don't worry, Sierra, I managed to grab it from Preynar's corpse; it's destroyed."

_Mission accomplished._

More UNSC soldiers -Marines this time- came over to them "Where are these Covenant soldiers?" A Marine, Sergeant Major Nancy Herald, asked.

"Proceed to follow me." 098 told the Marine as he turned around and made his way towards the bunker.

"_Dang_, you couldn't have saved some for us?" A Marine, Lance Corporal Brian Davis, asked in a jokingly tone.

"Son," Cross began over the COM "You can ask me to blow my head off, you can ask me to jump off a cliff, you can ask me to tell the Cap to fuck off, hell you can even ask me to _fuck you in the ass_; but don't ever ask me to save some kills for you."

"I can ask... but you may or may not do?" Davis asked.

"Yep." Cross confirmed.

"Then what the fuck's that shit about?" Davis asked.

"I was telling you not to bitch to me about not getting to kill anything." Cross clarified in an annoyed tone.

"Could have just said that," Davis chuckled "You didn't have to go into the _fucking me up the ass_ thing."

"I-"

"Do you _wanna_ fuck me up the ass?" Davis broke in before Cross could even begin.

"NO!" Cross exclaimed.

"Can you blow your head off?" Davis asked again.

"NO!" Cross exclaimed; more in annoyance this time.

"Can you tell the Cap to _fuck off?_" Davis asked.

"NO!" Cross yelled in anger. 098 thought he heard Davis whisper something as Cross yelled.

"Can you jump off a cliff?" Davis asked.

"NO! NO! NO! _NO!_" Cross yelled at the top of his lungs.

"_No_ what?" A female voice that 098's IFF confirmed as Captain Courtney Jsarez asked.

"Captain?" Cross asked in a shocked tone as 098, the Marines, and the ODSTs approached the ramp.

"_No what?_" The Captain asked again in an aggressive tone.

"He don't want to tell you to fuck off." Davis broke in.

"Why would he want to do that?" The Captain asked.

"He doesn't," Davis replied "But it's what he will say if you ask him to blow off his head, or jump of a cliff, or fuck you in the ass."

"Cross..." The Captain began in an aggressive tone "Good to know that you will do your best to prevent any inappropriate relationships between me and you. But I will have to ask you later as to how this topic was bought up."

"Captain, I-"

"She is no longer on the channel." The Monarch informed Cross.

"You?!" Cross exclaimed "Of course! I should have known!You have spent the past two weeks chatting up with the damn A.I, Davis! God only knows what tricks to made up with it!"

_Two weeks?_ "Two weeks?" 098 quickly asked; stopping before he entered the bunker.

"That's how long we were in Slip-Space." Herald answered in a worried tone.

"This is one of the things I need to explain to you." The Monarch broke in over the COM.

_Elaboration will come later. Focusing on topic is irrelevant _098 shrugged it off and entered the bunker.

"You took your time." Thel snapped its mandibles in an aggressive way; eyeing the UNSC personal that were with 098.

"Sorry, split-lip," Davis chuckled "We were having a reunion party. We would have invited you, but we didn't think you guys drank beer."

Since the Diverted soldiers could now understand English through the translators Lighter built into their lenses: the Elites quietly hissed at Davis's joke.

"What? Do you guys understand me?" Davis chuckled "Or are you just hissing at any Human who talks?"

Anve pointed to the Huragok "You shall watch your tongue now, worm; less we rip it from your mouth."

098 suddenly observed a Marine making his way over to Jol "What are you doing?" Thel asked the Marine called Corporal Malcolm Smith as he raised his shotgun to Jol's head.

"What is-" A shot rang out before Jol could finish.

Thel let out a loud hiss before roaring in absolute rage.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Thel 'Lodamee...<strong>

* * *

><p>Thel forgot drawing his plasma rifle. But it didn't matter, for it was now facing the Human's face.<p>

_WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! _"WHY?!" Thel parted his mandibles and roared in rage as the other Humans -save the Demon- raised their weapons at Thel and his men "WHY?! WHY?! YOU PATHETIC WORM?!"

Thel knew the Human had a translator built into its helmet -even though his helmet was open. And the Human replied to Thel in its pathetic tongue "I have no idea why you are so pissed about this hing-head's death. What? Does he not go to limbo or some shit and wait until your stupid _Great Journey _begins before you are all reunited in heaven or some shit? Oh wait... that bullshit doesn't happen, does it?"

_PATHETIC CREATURE _"The Prophets had it wrong," Thel hissed as his men prepared to kill every Human at his order "Humanity is a plague. And they should be wiped out."

The Demon moved in front of the Humans weapon _Is he going to break this up? He will not stop my wraith! _But the Demon only moved to the right -out of the way of the Human's weapon- and placed his left hand on the Humans gun and began to force it down.

"What the fuck you doing?" The Human asked the Demon in a panicked tone, but the Demon continued to force the Human's weapon down so it was not facing Thel.

Thel noticed a Human female raise its gun at the Demon only to have the Demon turn to it and shake its head as if saying _'do not dare'_ And the Human immediately lowered its weapon while ordering the other Humans and Imps to lower their weapons with the Human that killed Jol screaming "Lieutenant! What the fuck! Help me!"

"I ask that you do not do this." The Monarch told Thel.

"Whatever consequences I shall face, I will face eagerly for my wraith to be quenched in blood!." Thel clicked his mandibles in anticipation.

The Demon finally lowered the Human's weapon low enough that it was now facing the floor. But there was something odd; the Demon could have easily already lowered the weapon _Why was it taking its time? Is it trying to use intimidation on the pathetic creature in its last moments?_

Finally, the Demon turned to face Thel, and Thel took that as his cue, and fired a single shot into the Human's head; splitting it open, and melting off the flesh around the hole.

The Demon let go of the Human's weapon and proceeded to pick up Unggoy with the dislocated leg, and immediately left the bunker with the rest of the Humans coming over to assist the Diverted; assistance that the Diverted reluctantly accepted.

Thel could not respect a Human. They were a plague. And he would tell Sanghelios of the Humans violence. But he would also tell Sanghelios of the loyalty and respect Humans had. And while many would argue that Demons are not Humans. Thel knew the truth.

The Demon was Human...


	13. Revelation: Part One

[RECORD: [Dr. Catherine. E . Halsey: SN: CC-409871] No. 0023 [2517: 3, 10, 2149, 56s]

[TOPIC: Sierra: Red-098: Physical, Mental And Background Report]

[SITUATION: ALPHA 15]

[CLASSIFIED: ALPHA ONE: ONI-SEC-PRTCL-1A]

[RECORD: BEGIN]

_Out of all the SPARTANs so-far, Red-098 has proven to be the most interesting._

_Lets start with the mental conditions._

_Red has shown to be very quiet and unsocial._

_He has so-far avoided interacting with the rest of the SPARTANs... unless it is ordered by Mendez..._

_He also prefers to eat alone and has taken his dinner to a table that is unoccupied time and time again since he arrived._

_He doesn't speak with his handler unless he has to... and tries to stay away from his handler as much as possible._

_Red is also shyer than the other SPARTANs..._

_When he first arrived, and the SPARTANs were ordered to take a shower, Red refused until the handler beat him..._

_It is not unusual for a young child to be scared at the thought of being naked around other children; even some of the other SPARTANs refused; but did as they were ordered after the handlers began to use aggressive tones._

_Red, however, persisted until he was beaten._

_I do not know if this resisting will be a problem in the future... or if he is just scared and nervous; I for one prefer the latter._

_I have so-far not sat down and interviewed Red... and I will do an update on this report after I do so._

_As for how Red is when he is training._

_He seems to be do everything he is ordered to do. And he works well with the other SPARTANs; talking to them, training with them, assisting them, and the likes._

_I find it odd how a boy at his age would not socialize with other children... but doesn't resist socializing with them when he needs to._

_The first day he was here, he began working with his follow SPARTANs without resisting; and I find this very odd..._

_Now, back to the matters at hand..._

_Red has shown to be effective when it comes to physical exercise; he seems to be able to do as much physical training before tiring out as any other SPARTAN._

_He is more athletic than the other SPARTANs; being able to maneuver the training course with ease._

_He uses the monkey bars in a way that surprises me..._

_During his first run of the course, he managed to pull himself atop the monkey bars... and got down with ease when Mendez ordered him to do so._

_There is not much else to report on his physical training so-far... I have only noted that he is more athletic than the other SPARTANs. He is also fast... but Kelly-087 has proven to be the fastest out of the SPARTANs._

_Now to his educational learning..._

_Red has proved to be a keen listener... Déjá says that he is her favorite student._

_Red has taken a keen interest in the battle of Thermopylae and Spartan society; reading books, looking up details on data-pads -which he takes without asking... but puts back immediately after he is done; he has, however, stopped this after Déjá deemed it necessary to tell him to stop._

_Red is, frankly, more intelligent than most of the SPARTANs for his young age... He reads extremely well; and Déjá has reported that he has picked up on everything he has read... he is very good at maths and English; his writing skills are exceptionally good for his age, and he is able to work out numerous sums that most of the other SPARTANs are having trouble with -he even assist those SPARTANs in maths and English; which is leading me to believe that he is either warming up to them... or he finds assisting them in education is similar to assisting them in physical teamwork._

_Other than these few things, there is nothing else to report on his education; but more may happen since I keep finding out something new about him each day._

_Now to Red's physical description._

_Red is physically fit for a child of his age... Which is obviously due to him growing up on Harvest..._

_His is of pale complexion; in-fact... his skin is almost white._

_He has short brown hair; that was short before he was conscripted his face is like any other face of a six-year-old boy; having a round nose, freckles, a sly smile; his cheeks are not round, though. And he has an unusually shard jaw for his age. And to the right of his mouth he has a small mole._

_As for his eyes: They are a simple shade of green._

_There isn't much more to say about his facial appearance... No doubt this report will be listened to by the higher ONI officials -That's right, I know... and if they want to know more about the SPARTANs appearances.. they can look at their damn folders... I only waste my time doing these stupid reports to indulge them..._

_I have already wasted enough time doing this nonsense... I will just mention one thing before ending this irrelevant report... Look at the photo of the large scar on the right side of Red's back, then look at his background in his file; for we may have a problem..._

[RECORD: END]

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1416 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite _****Dropship 77-Troop Carrier: Charlie-41, Unknown Halo Array.**

**Thel 'Lodamee...**

* * *

><p>There was not much left of Jol: his entire head was blown off with but a bloody stump remaining where his head was. But Thel would not leave his brother to the clutches of the Flood that may possibly be deeper in the dark jungle.<p>

The Humans would not leave their fallen soldier as-well. Thel hated the fact that the Human worm would receive funeral rites, but he hated the idea of having to kill the human worm again, even more.

But Thel asked the Demon to order the Human soldiers to take the body of the Human worm in another dropship; so Thel could avoid looking at what remained of its pathetic face.

Thel's journey in the Human dropship has so-far been mentally painful. He had to resist the urge to kill all the pathetic Humans and smell Jol's flesh and blood; as-well as watching his body to make sure nothing happened to it while Thel was not looking. Thel was also greatly annoyed by the feel of the Human dropship's movement. And had to listen to the Humans talk -too much- in their strange yet pathetic tongue; Thel did, however, know what the Humans were saying due to the translator the Huragok built into the Diverted soldier's lenses; a fact that the Humans seem to have forgotten since they kept speaking about Thel and his men as if they were not there

But one of Thel's greatest disturbances, however, was not all of the Diverted soldiers could fit in one dropship. Anve and Freyn were in another dropship along with Kri and 3 of the 6 surviving Unggoy. Thel was, however, put at some type of ease as the Demon said he would make sure nothing would happen.

Thel still did not trust the Demon -especially now that it was around its kin- but he respected the Demon enough to allow this.

The Sentinels were also in the other dropship; and the Monarch had stated over the Demon's BattleNet -that was on some type of speaker- that it would make sure nothing happened.

In the dropship Thel was in there was Suras, the Huragok, and the other three Unggoy.

Suras was sitting on one of the Human seats; with the Unggoy near him -scared that the Humans may harm him. The Huragok, however, was stroking Jol's dead body while cooing and groaning sadly. Jol was sitting across from Jol's body, and found the Huragok's actions very touching _Ten San 'Shyuum shall die for every Huragok ever harmed by the Covenant._

"Oh give me a break, Cross!" Thel heard the Human that made a terrible jest earlier say to the dropship's pilot over its BattleNet; unfortunately bringing Thel's attention back to the argument the Humans were having "The Cap likely knows I'm messing around."

The Human pilot named Cross must had replied for the Human that kept getting referred to as 'Davis' said "I think the Cap would have been a bit crankier if she thought that I was serious."

Cross must had replied again because Davis said "_Fuck you!_"

_What does this evil sounding word mean? _Thel rubbed his twitching mandibles in confusion; he wondered what the word _'fuck' _Meant. He assumed it was a Human curse word, but decided that he would ask the Monarch later.

"Hang on, ma'am," The Human female -who was their leader- said to nobody "Allow me to-"

"Let me handle this, ma'am." Davis told the Human female.

"Smith was too hotheaded," Davis began "his head finally melted." _Is it talking about the Human worm?_

"You take the fun out of _everything_," Davis said; Thel assumed it was speaking to something over its BattleNet "Fine: He decided to execute a damn wounded hing-head _(I shall have to watch go further to resist killing this Human) _This caused a Mexican stand-off between us and the Covenant soldiers _(We are no longer part of the fake Covenant) _Unfortunately for Smith; Sierra-098 decided to side with the hing-heads."

Thel guessed the term 'hing-head' was due to the Sangheili's hinged neck and head _A pathetic term for a pathetic race._

"Am I really that cryptic?" Davis asked whatever it was talking to "You don't like my joking? Shit, Cross will be pissed."

_Do these things ever shut up? _"Quiet," Thel hissed at Davis "Your constant blubbering is harming my mind."

"Can we talk about this later, Cap?" Davis asked whatever was on the other side of the BattleNet "The split-lip boss is getting annoy of my voice."

Whatever was on the other-side of the BattleNet must had replied for Davis said "Thanks, Cap. I'll tell you what happened later."

"No, I will." The Human female broke in.

_Damn it! Shut up! _"Shut it!" Thel snapped his mandibles at the Humans.

"Fucking hing-head." Another Human soldier with black skin chuckled.

"It can understand you." Davis warned the Human with black skin

"It can?" The Human with black skin asked.

"Yes." The female Human confirmed.

The black skinned Human looked at Thel in a worried way "_Well... shit..._" It said.

_I shall have to ask the Monarch what 'shit' means as-well._

Thel ignored the Humans and turned his head to look out of the dropship's opened doors; they -and the other three dropships- were finally entering the Human ship.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1417 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Bridge, Unknown Halo Array; Believed to be Installation 06 By Forerunner A.I -Designated: The Monarch.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>Captain Courtney Jsarez was reading the Status reports of the <em>friendly<em> Covenant soldiers and Sierra-098 when her Communications officer -Ensign Benjamin Hardinworth- said "Ma'am, Lieutenant Herald reports that Corporal Malcolm Smith is KIA."

_What? How? _"Timmy." Courtney called for the _Kryptonite's _A.I.

Timmy's A.I avatar immediately appeared on her personal console "Yes, ma'am?" He asked.

Timmy was the most bland A.I Courtney had ever seen -and she had seen a lot in her service. He never joked, never showed any emotions unless it was a time he had to -Courtney observed that he got annoyed whenever the Monarch would hack into the ships systems- Timmy's avatar was that of a 21st century middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, a leather coat that went down to his thighs, some simple steel-cap working boots, jeans with a belt around his waste, and a T-shirt under his opened coat.

"Put me on Fireteam Solitude's COM channel." She ordered the A.I.

Timmy nodded "Connected... Now."

"Sergeant Herald, you reported in that Corporal Smith is KIA, mind explaining why?" Courtney questioned Herald.

"Hang on, ma'am," Herald replied over Courtney's personal console "Let me-"

"Let me handle this, ma'am." Lance Corporal Brian Davis broke in over the COM.

_Damn it _"Fine." Courtney signed.

"Smith was too hot-headed," Davis began "his head finally melted."

_What is that meant to mean? _"Elaborate, Corporal." Courtney ordered the Marine in a stern voice.

"You take the fun out of _everything_," Davis sighed over the COM "Fine. He decided to execute a damn wounded hing-head; this caused a Mexican stand-off between us and the Covenant soldiers, and unfortunately for Smith, Sierra-098 decided to side with the hing-heads."

_I still have no idea on what the hell you're talking about _"You attempts to elaborate have failed," Courtney coldly told Davis "Please elaborate a bit better _this time_."

"Am I really cryptic?" Davis chuckled over the COM.

_Why hasn't he learned that I do not enjoy his stupid jokes? _"I don't find you amusing, Corporal. So I would appreciate it if you would quit your joking."

"You don't like my joking?" Davis asked "Shit, Cross will be pissed."

"You bet you ass I will be." Cross broke in over the COM.

_Oh for God's sake. I should have just let Herald explain _"Put-"

Davis interrupted Courtney before she could continue "Can we talk about this later, Cap?" Davis asked "The split-lip boss is getting annoyed of my voice."

_Damn it _"Fine." Courtney sighed.

"Thanks, Cap," Davis replied "I'll tell you what happened later."

"No, I will." Herald said as Courtney disconnected from the COM.

_Damn Marines. And what the fuck happened down there? I should have just sent Lynda._

There was a reason Courtney didn't send Lieutenant Colonel Lynda Keyes down to meet with the Covenant. And that reason was because Lynda had lost her husband and children when _Atmosus _was glassed a couple of months ago -_Atmosus _was also the same planet the Monarch resided on. And since Lynda may had been hostile, even physical to the Covenant -despite her claiming that she wouldn't- Courtney decided it would be best not to worry about it, and hoped the leaders of the Fireteams would be able to hold their teams together. And apparently Herald couldn't do that with her own Fireteam.

Courtney let out a sigh as the Monarch floated and positioned itself next to her command chair "Reclaimer," It said in its metallic voice "I have detected Flood on this Installation."

_WHAT?! _"_The Flood?!_" Courtney exclaimed with some of her command crew turning to who she was talking to "I thought they all died when Halo was activated."

"Yes they were," The Monarch replied "But I suppose my creators decided to keep a few alive to research -in-case they ever came back."

_That's bullshit! _"The Flood wouldn't have come back since they were _starved out!_" Courtney aggressively reminded the Monarch.

"It was a guess to my creators intentions," The Monarch reminded Courtney "And there was always the chance that the Flood somehow survived."

_Oh for fuck's sake! This changes everything._

"This topic is irrelevant," The Monarch told Courtney _great, so more bad news? _"The Monitor of this Installation as activated a gravity well that will prevent anything from leaving Halo's atmosphere _(WHAT?!) _I believe it did this to prevent the Flood from escaping."

_I can't believe this! _"You're fucking kidding me?!" Courtney angrily exclaimed "We can't leave?!"

"No," The Monarch confirmed Courtney's fears "But I do not think the Monitor will leave us to be eliminated by the Covenant."

"I can confirm that," Timmy's avatar popped up on Courtney's console "He's hacking the _Kryptonite _as we speak."

_This hacking can't be good for the ship. And NAVCOM will have my ass for it._

"It's accessing the bridges intercoms." Timmy reported right as a static sound filled the bridge.

"Greetings, Reclaimers," A voice said over the bridges intercoms "I am 16807 Fleighted Fire. I am the Monitor of Installation 06."

"I figured this was Installation 06." The Monarch said.

"Flood on this Installation have broken out of Holding facility 009," The Monitor continued "To prevent the spread of the Flood, this Installation's gravity well has been activated. I would ask that you refrain from entering the Denial of Locale; for you shall find it is dangerously ineffective, Reclaimers _(Does it mean slipspace?) _Instead, Reclaimers, I ask that you proceed to the coordinates I have entered into your ship's Navigation controls; I highly recommend this, Reclaimers. And I ask that you please hurry -for Meddler ships are quickly making their way to your ship's location."

Courtney waited until the Monitor stopped talking before turning to the Monarch -that was still floating next to her command seat "Can we trust it?" She asked the Monarch.

"Yes, Reclaimer," The Monarch replied "And we have no other choice but to."

_So much for jump in, get the Covenant separatists and the SPARTAN, and jump to a random slipspace vector before jumping back to Earth and begin the events that would end this damn war _Courtney let out a sigh "Where are these coordinates?" Courtney asked her Navigation officer -Lieutenant Lilly Gantant.

"_Inside the ring._" She replied in a confused tone.

_Inside the ring? _"Monarch, How can we go _inside the ring?_" Courtney asked the Monarch.

"Please wait, Reclaimer, while I hack into your Ships Navigation controls to get a visual on where Fleighted Fire wants us to go." The Monarch replied.

_This is a violation of a load of security regulations. I hope I don't get court-marshaled for letting the Monarch just hack into our ship's systems at will._

"It wishes us to go to an access gate that will allow us to go inside the Installation's maintenance tunnels." The Monarch finally stated.

_This may keep us safe if it is what I think it is _"Can our ship fit into the tunnels?" Courtney asked the Monarch "Can the Covenant follow us?"

"The service tunnels door is concealed to look like a Forerunner facility. It will close up again, and will be unable to open without the Monitor's consent. And yes: your ship is small enough to fit in the tunnels." The Monarch confirmed.

_Finally some good news _"Gantant, take us to those coordinates," Courtney ordered her Navigation officer "Don't be afraid to let the Monarch take control of the _Kryptonite _if-" A pain went throughout Courtney's back and chest -again.

_Not again! No! _"_Fuck!_" Courtney screamed in pain as she almost fell out of her command seat.

"Captain!" Courtney's Operations officer -Lieutenant Joseph Gamble- exclaimed as he left his post and hurried over to Courtney.

"Are you alright, Reclaimer?" The Monarch asked.

"Medics are on the way." Timmy reassured Courtney as Hardinworth came over to help her.

_Not again! Please, God, not again!_

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1426 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Medical bay, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"Did the medics go ahead and try to tend to this?" Chief Medical Officer Howard Klyn asked 098 as he bought the portable MJOLNIR armor removers over to the reinforced bed 098 was on.<p>

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 confirmed as he took of his helmet and placed it on a medical table beside the bed he was on.

"They shouldn't have done that," Klyn stated "We need to load you up on Morphine first -did it hurt?"

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 nodded.

"Watch it!" Davis asked as a medic began examining his broken arm.

Thel and the rest of the Diverted were not happy when Marines came over to take them to the brig. And oddly enough, Thel decided to take Davis hostage at gunpoint -breaking his arm in the process. Thankfully, 098 managed to calm things down enough for Thel to accept being taken to the brig.

"Is the Captain nearly here?" Klyn asked over his head-piece.

Apparently the Captain had a large amount of pain go through her body, and was being taken to the medical bay.

"Good." Klyn said to the voice that must have replied as he went back to removing 098's torso armor.

"I keep asking them to bring one of those big armor removing things in here," Klyn muttered as he unscrewed 098's armor "But they kept saying 'oh no, the chances of a SPARTAN coming aboard -wounded- is too low to waste the credits'; arseholes."

"We'll have to tend to the Captain when she arrives." Another medic told 098 as he assisted in removing 098's armor.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative," 098 nodded "my status is irrelevant if CO's status is orange or over."

"I wouldn't put it like that." Howard chuckled as he had two other medics help him carry his armor to a reinforced medical table.

The medical bay's door opened to reveal two medics carting a portable medical table with Captain Jsarez on it "We need assistance!" One of the medics yelled as they carted the table into the medical bay.

"Can I continue to help Sierra?" One of the medics assisting 098 asked.

"Yeah," Howard nodded at the medic as he went over and helped the Captain to sit up "If this is just another sudden pain attack, it should go away quickly."

The Captain was groaning in intense pain.

"Okay," The medic tending to 098 muttered "Let's get your under-suit off."

The Medic injected a dose a morphine into 098's wounds -with the Captain beginning to scream in more pain- and began to quickly unzip 098's under-suit around his torso.

"_FUCK!_" The Captain screamed as the medic began to examine 098's wounds.

"Gonna need to turn you around to get to your back better." The medic said as he helped 098 shift around.

098 felt a lot pain moving his body -now that his wounds were uncovered, they were starting to hurt again.

"There we are." The medic said as he began to inspect 098's back.

"_Red._" 098 heard the Captain gasp in shock "_I knew it._"

098 turned to see what the Captain was talking about, and saw a smile he would never forget.

_Nai..._


	14. Revelation: Part Two

**November 7, 2547 [1427 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Brig, Installation 06.**

**Thel 'Lodamee...**

* * *

><p>"Stay still!" Anve snapped his mandibles at Kri as he slowly relocated the Kig-Yar's claws back into place.<p>

When the Humans came to take them to their brig, Thel managed to take the Human known as Davis capture at gunpoint, and the rest of the Diverted mostly raised their weapons -save Kri who decided to attack the Humans head on, and ended up having a gun butt come to his face but he decided to try to block the incoming hit with his clawed hands.

Kri let out a loud screech as its claws were finally relocated.

"Hope you learnt your lesson." Anve angrily snapped his mandibles as he gave Kri a little push away from him.

"_Shut it!_" The Kig-Yar screeched.

"Watch how you speak to your superiors." Anve hit Kri over the head.

"We are no longer in the Covenant!" Kri reminded Anve with a hiss "Military rank does not matter."

"Oh, so I'm not restricted to breaking your neck?" Anve retorted.

_Smart._

The Kig-Yar let out an annoyed screech as he went over to a Human bed and sat on it while the non wounded Unggoy played some type of game near him; but stopped after Kri kicked one of the small creatures in the head as if telling him to stop.

"Are you okay, brother?" Suras asked as he took seated himself next to Thel on the Human bed.

_Not really _"I am worried as to what the Humans have done with Jol's body." Thel replied; his mandibles twitching in an uncontrollable way.

Suras placed a reassuring hand on Thel's shoulder "Relax, brother, I doubt the Demon will allow the other Reclaimers to mistreat his body."

_Reclaimers? I do not believe they can uphold that title _Suras was the only surviving member of the Diverted to refer to the Humans as Reclaimers. It was very uncomfortable for Thel to hear it. But he let it slide; not wanting to upset Suras any further than he already was when he found out the truth -Thel was surprised he was not among the ones to kill themselves when the Monarch revealed the truth.

"The Demon will follow orders, brother, before he follows loyalty." Thel grimly clicked his mandibles to reminded Suras.

"_'he'_?" Suras observed what Thel just said.

_It has earned that honor _"Brother, Humanity may be worms... a _plague_... but not all of them are..." Thel began scratching a wound on his head "The Demon has deserved the honor of being more than a worm; a plague."

"Shall we-"

"Refer to him as you wish, brother," Thel interrupted Suras "Do not allow my leadership to cloud your decisions -as we have let happen with the San 'Shyuum."

"He has earned my respect as-well," Suras clicked his mandibles "I was touched by His temporarily loyalty to us being so great that he killed his own kin to avenge one of us."

_I doubt he will like us thinking this _"The Demon will know doubt try to deny this." Thel stated.

"He will," Suras agreed with a nod of his head before cocking it around to face Thel "But you, brother, know how to bypass his denial."

_That was a statement not a question_ "Yes," Thel confirmed with a nod of his head "he cannot deny all of what happened as something else; it was personal and He cannot avoid me reaching that core."

Thel watched in worry as Freyn sat down on another Human bed; clutching his heavily damaged arm.

"Brother, what extend is the wound?" Thel asked Freyn as he hopped off of the bed he was sitting on and moved over to the bed Freyn was sitting on which was directly opposite the cell's door.

"I wish our energy shields lasted a bit longer, brother," Freyn began scratching the wound on his neck with his good hand "But I wish those damned insects were better trained."

_What does he mean _"What do you mean, brother?" Thel clicked his mandibles in question as he took a seat beside Freyn on the bed.

"They swarmed us," Freyn began with a click of his mandibles while making a gesture of his good arm; which he stopped scratching his wound with "They attacked us indiscriminately, brother; using no strategy. They bought out shields down with attacking us physically -rather than using their damned weapons which were given to them. And instead of focusing on all of the major targets at once... they decided -with their tiny minds- to center on one of us the most."

_You need not continue _"Jol." Thel slowly nodded his head.

"If they but used strategy," Freyn continued "if they but focused on us all at the same time -instead of the majority focusing on Jol- he may have survived."

_Do you blame yourself? _"You speak as if you are blaming yourself, brother." Thel observed while scratching at a scratch he had on his lower left mandible.

"No, brother, I do not blame myself," Freyn shook his head "There are many more I can blame. There are the ones who decided that Minors would not have shields as strong as higher ranks. There are the San 'Shyuum for deciding to take in such a pathetic and dumb race into the fake Covenant. There are the fools who decided to use that pathetic race for military use other than labor."

_You waste your breath with blaming such and such. There is but one end to the path of blame _"Listing out all of those you could blame is a waste of time when there is a single end to the path of blame" Thel broke in "_The San 'Shyuum_."

"We shall kill them all," Freyn gritted his mandibles in disgust and hatred "We shall kill them all after we skin each and every one of them from their _pathetic flesh._"

Anve and Suras must have heard Freyn for they let out roars of approval -as did Thel.

"Are you okay?" Thel heard the familiar metallic voice of the Monarch over the brigs speakers as he and the other Diverted stopped roaring.

_Why would it ask if it cannot hear our reply? _Thel had his questioned answered when he saw one of the Monarch's Sentinels float into their cell.

"Warn the Humans that I am not happy about this." Thel gritted his mandibles to the Monarch through the Sentinel.

"I will inform them of that," The Monarch replied "But I need to inform you on some certain events that have taken place."

_Events? Why am I not eager to hear this? _"What events?" Thel sternly questioned the Monarch as he positioned himself so he would be looking straight into the Sentinel's eye like center.

"Due to the Floods outbreak on this Installation," The Monarch began "the Monitor of this Installation -now known as 16807 Fleighted Fire- has activated a gravity well on this Installation -preventing any ships from leaving this Installation's atmosphere."

_WHAT?! _"We cannot_ leave?!_" Thel snapped his mandibles in anger and annoyance at the Sentinel "_We are stuck on this dreaded ring?!_"

"Please calm down," The Monarch told Thel and the rest of the Diverted who were now panicking and roaring, barking, and screeching in annoyance and anger "I believe the Monitor will have a plan. At the moment -to keep us safe from hostile Covenant forces- it has told us to enter a large maintenance tunnel going throughout this Installation. Being inside this Installation shall keep us safe."

_To what end _"For how long?" Thel questioned the Monarch with a few clicks of his mandibles "Will the Monitor deactivate the gravity well so we can leave?"

"I do not know," The Monarch replied "As far as I know: all of the Covenant fleet is within the atmosphere. This means if the Monitor deactivates the gravity well, there is the threat of a contaminated Covenant ship leaving and letting the Flood loose into the galaxy."

_I must have jinxed things when I believed that our fortune had not abandoned us _Thel clicked and twitched his mandibles in annoyance before finally saying "What do you believe the Monitor's plan is?"

"From what I know, this Installation -now confirmed to be Installation 06- has the most Flood holding facilities than any other Forerunner world," The Monarch began to explained "with that, it is highly likely that the Monitor has a Seer -a large machine that can scan an entire small planet of Flood life-sighs. I believe it will scan all the Covenant ships before deactivating the gravity well to allow us to enter 'the Void' and head back to Human space."

_We have already wasted so much time _"Just more time to waste; and more brothers that will die for the fake Covenant." Thel hissed in anger as he went back to sit down on one of the Human beds.

"That is all I have to report -at the moment," The Monarch stated "I shall tell you when the Humans are coming to speak with you."

The sound of the beep from the Human's speakers told Thel and the Diverted that the Monarch had nothing else to say.

"Brother," Anve said as he sat next to Thel "I have thought of a possible advantage."

_Then speak _"What advantage, brother?" Thel questioned Anve with a few clicks of his mandibles as he cocked his head around to face the Major in Minor armor.

"With that corvette destroyed..." Anve began "the Fleet-Master may want to come after us personally."

Thel couldn't keep his mandibles forming a grin _Pity shall want to stay back at the base beneath the portal -he would not dare attempt to go with the Fleet-Master if he decides to come after us -less he cause unwanted questions. And with Pity out-of-the-way... perhaps I could contact the Fle- oh..._

Thel had to only say one name to remind Freyn of a high problem that they may have "Qrs 'Jaragsai..."

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1435 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"Was it ONI?" The Captain questioned 098 as she squirmed uncontrollably on the couch she was sitting on.<p>

The officer's lounge was fairly nice for a frigate. It was located on a small observation deck with a large window that one could look out to see the galaxy. It had a small bar with stools in-front of it, there was a sitting area -where 098 and the Captain were- with a coffee table in the middle of 4 couches facing each other. On the wall opposite the bar there was a large screen with two more couches in-front of it. The lounge's floor was different from the other rooms around the ship that 098 had seen thus far; with the cold metal floor being covered in carpet and rugs covering the carpet in certain areas of the lounge. The walls were not different from from the walls in a Charon-class frigate's barracks with being painted a simple white; but here were a few posters and other decorations and accessories covering the wall.

098 couldn't stop looking at the Captain's face; how it reminded him of his own face -as it should.

_Topic: classified _"Topic: classified. Cannot engage in classified topic." 098 calmly told the Captain.

"I didn't even need to ask..." The Captain ran her hand through her shoulder length hair "I mean... who _else_ could it be?"

098 did not want to be here. But after his wounds were tended to, and the Captain had calmed down, she asked for 098 to join her in the officer's lounge -which 098 declined; but she asked him again, and this time, it was an order. And 098 would not refuse an order -no matter how much he did not want to carry it out.

098 noticed that Lieutenant Colonel Lynda Keyes -who was standing by the lounge's entrance- was watching him carefully; not shifting her eyes from him.

Keyes was a women of average height with a sharp face; having a sharp but thin jaw, sharp cheekbones -but not gaunt-, downward angled eye ridges that gave her blue eyes a serious look, and a straight nose. Her shoulder length red hair was tied up into a ponytail but she left a bit loose around her fringe so some hair was covering her forehead. She was currently wearing standard off-duty Marine fatigues with a M6F PDW holstered on her right thigh and a combat knife sheathed on a belt that went diagonally across her torso.

098 directed his eyes away from Keyes and back to face the Captain as she rested her right hand on the couches armrest while she kept her left hand on her lap; her fingers began to twitch about uncontrollably.

"Talk to me, Red," The Captain finally said; her fingers still twitching "_Just talk to me._"

_Possibility of stress causing finger twitching: certain. Personal experience confirms theory. Previous: Unknown topic to initiate _"Unknown topic to initiate." 098 told the Captain.

The Captain redirected her green eyes from 098's before letting out a sigh; her fingers still twitching "You... can't _socialize_?"

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 confirmed with a single nod of his head.

The Captain redirected her eyes to be looking at 098 again; her fingers still twitching "What, you can or you can't?" She asked.

_I cannot engage in irrelevant topics _"I cannot engage in irrelevant topics." 098 stated.

"So no?" The Captain asked; her fingers _still_ twitching; getting more uncontrollable.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 confirmed with another single nod of his head.

"_Why?_" The Captain asked; beginning to tear up; her fingers twitching uncontrollably "_What did they do to you?_"

098 noticed that Keyes was wondering if she should go to her distressed captain; she seemed very worried about the Captain _Possible close relationship: certain. Previous: Topic: classified _"Topic: classified." 098 told the Captain.

The Captain took a few seconds to collect herself "Why do you speak like_ that?_" She finally asked; fingers still twitching uncontrollably.

_Topic: classified _"Topic: classified." 098 told the Captain.

"Really?" Timmy's avatar appeared on a small holo tank by the entrance to the lounge; with 098, the Captain, and Keyes turning to face it "I've been going over your recordings: and I saw that you told the Covenant separatists about the Cole Protocol; practically spoke off the paper."

_designed to follow UNSC and ONI regulations and protocols _" designed to follow UNSC and ONI regulations and protocols." 098 stated.

"I'm not allowing you to tell the Captain classified Intel," Timmy assured 098 "What I'm doing is reminding you that you have already given away classified Intel to the enemy."

_Allow me to elaborate _"Situation required classified Intel elaboration." 098 stated to the A.I.

"You didn't have to into such detail; you didn't even need to tell the Covenant separatists about all of it -just the random vectors part." Timmy countered 098's argument.

"Timmy." The Captain finally said in a tone that said 'you shouldn't had interrupted, now go away'; her fingers still twitching uncontrollably.

"Sorry, ma'am." Timmy apologized as his avatar disappeared from the holo tank.

Keyes went back to her original position -facing 098- and the Captain turned her head back around to face 098; her eyes directly on him "Do you even know _who I am_?" The Captain asked 098; her fingers still twitching uncontrollably.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative," 098 nodded "Courtney Jsarez: Captain of the _Charon_-class light frigate designated: the UNSC _Kryptonite_."

The Captain let out a sigh and shook her head "I meant how you and I are connect; you do know that we are connected? Right?" She asked 098 while narrowing her eyes to his; her fingers still twitching uncontrollably.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative," 098 confirmed with a single nod "We were conjoined twins."

"Yes," The Captain slowly nodded her head; tearing up again; her fingers _still _twitching uncontrollably "We were closer than any two people could ever be," The Captain wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her uniform; her fingers still twitching uncontrollably as she did so "Then they _took you... _and _replaced _you with _some... thing..._; and I knew it wasn't_ you_... I knew it. And for the longest of times... I had no idea what had happened... Then I got older... and I found out about _ONI_... and I thought to myself... '_what else could it be?_' I knew the Insurrection was getting bad; hell, the UEG space knew it... but I still tried to convince myself that we hadn't_ stooped so low_ as to do something _so_ _drastic_..."

098 didn't say a word. He didn't even know what to say. He just simply looked into the green eyes of his twin sister; trying to remember her.

"Ma'am," Timmy's avatar reappeared on the holo tank by the door "I'm sorry to interfere but the Covenant separatists are getting restless; demanding to speak with you and have their wounds healed."

"Right," The Captain sniffled; her fingers began to slow their twitching rate down "Get a security team down there; have them bought here; there should be plenty of room here; and have the COs come up here as-well."

"Affirmative, ma'am," Timmy complied "One more thing: the rest of the Covenant fleet -that the Monarch says the Covenant separatists call the _Second Fleet of Divine Trinity- _has arrived here from Quaint."

"They can't enter the atmosphere, though, right?" The Captain asked; her finger's twitching began to get slower and slower.

"That's what the Monarch says," Timmy nodded its holographic head "But if the fleet does enter the rings atmosphere, it will likely be torn apart.

"Let's hope they do then." Keyes chuckled as she took a seat on one of the bar stools

"We... will talk later... _yeah_?" The Captain asked 098 as Timmy's avatar disappeared; her fingers finally stopped twitching.

_Personal emotions irrelevant. Following orders is mandatory. _"Personal emotions irrelevant. But will engage in topic if ordered to." 098 told the Captain.

"Will you talk to me without me _ordering you to?_" The Captain questioned 098.

_Negative. Engaging in topic irrelevant_ "Negative. Engaging in topic irrelevant." 098 replied.

The Captain seemed shocked by 098's words "_Is that all I am?_" She asked; tearing up again; her fingers began twitching again "_Irrelevant_?"

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 replied indifferently.

"Then I'll order you to speak to me," The Captain said; in tears; her fingers twitching uncontrollably "I won't _let... this..._ _go_..."

* * *

><p><span><strong>September 8, 2555 [1214 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard Unknown ****_Sahara_****-class heavy Prowler.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"She said that she was your twin sister." West stated as he took a sip of his coffee.<p>

_As I told her to _"What did you think when you heard?" Red asked West.

Red had control of his mind again. The '098' personality that _it _enjoyed inflicting on Red was gone -for now.

"I already knew," West smiled _Of course _"I read all your files before starting the interviews.

Red had to grin at his mistake _It's not good to allow others to see the mistakes of heroes _"Will you cut that out?" Red asked West; with him smiling in return.

"Can't have the reputation of a SPARTAN ruined," West chuckled as he pulled out his Data-pad "it won't leave this room. Now, shall we continue? Or did you want to take a lunch break?"

_Let me finish up with the meeting _"Can I finish up with the meeting first?" Red asked West.

"Sure," West nodded as he finished typing something down on his Data-pad "I assume that after what happened with your sister, things were uncomfortable."

_Not for me _"It wasn't for me," 098 took a sip of his bottled water "But I noticed her giving me a few glances during the meeting. And when the meeting ended, she said she had to get something from her quarters; I assumed she went there to cry before going to the bridge."

West seemed upset "Fucking Section III," He shook his head _He is feeling guilty_ "I-"

"I don't blame you," Red reassured West "I'm guilty of a few things myself," _No! _"Like, wanting to eat your dead son."

"_The fuck!_" The food almost jumped out of its seat "What the _fuck_, Sierra?"

_Quell yourself, food, it is my turn to speak _"I know how they died," _It _said "I know how everything died -for I am _everything_."

"It's not you," The food realized "What the _fuck _is happening here?!"

_QUELL YOURSELF, FOOD! YOU ARE MINE! It _Noticed the other Food in the room were beginning to squirm in confusion "_Reach_, was it?" _It _asked "Such a pathetic name. Soon, its name shall be but wind. And your pathetic son will be forgotten."

The food just stood there; looking calmly at _it It is strong for food. Toying with its weak emotions shall reap me no reward. Have your mind back, food._

"_Fuck!_" Red cursed as he slammed his head down on the table _Oh, Nai!_ "Shit! Sir, I recommend you send a team to find Captain Jsarez."

"Frasine," West called out to the ships A.I "Send a team to the barracks; just not the damned IVs."

"Done." Frasine reported over the room's intercoms.

"Was that _It_?" West asked as he grabbed his Data-pad that he dropped when _It _took control.

_Yes _"Yeah," Red confirmed with a nod "Please don't ask me what _It _is; because _It _won't let me say."

"Will _It _eventually let you _tell me_?" West asked Red as he began using his stylus on his Data-pad.

_Will you? Food, every story has its plot-twist _"It seems so," Red replied in confusion "I think that it intends to reveal _itself _when we reach that part of the story."

"_'That part of the story'_?" West questioned Red.

_I know... _"Cryptic, I know. But believe me when I say that I don't want to be." Red explained before he grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink of it before putting it back on the table; empty.

"I'm patient, Sierra," West stated "But the rest of ONI may not be. And I won't be able to stop them from interviewing you themselves once we arrive back at Earth."

_It won't matter by then _"Everything will be clear by then," Red assured West "That's if _it _allows me to reach that part of the story; but I believe _it _wants that."

"Captain Jsarez is okay," Frasine reported over the room's intercoms "She has a huge headache. But will be alright -according to the medics."

"Did you want to go see her?" West asked.

_No, let me finish with the meeting _"Let me just finish up with the meeting." Red replied.

"Sure, no problem; whose POV?" West asked.

_Thel's, again _"Thel's." Red replied.

"Go ahead then." West took a sip of his coffee.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1447 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06.**

**Thel 'Lodamee...**

* * *

><p>Thel, Suras, Anve, Freyn, Kri, the non wounded surviving Unggoy -the ones with serious wounds were being held back in the Human medical bay-, and the Huragok entered the room to find that the Monarch was there, and it was flooded with Humans.<p>

_I feel as if I am in a pit of worms _Thel clicked his mandibles in annoyance and let out an annoyed grunt as he and his men spread out around the room with Freyn walking over to wide Human seat while cradling his bandaged arm and hissed at the Humans to move from the seat as he took the seat as his own, the 4 Unggoy positioning themselves around Suras -who was leaning against the wall under a Human screen, Kri had decided to annoy the Humans and jumped up on the service bench and sat down; sending the Humans sitting on the thin chairs in-front of the bench back, Anve and Thel both stood together near the rooms entrance, and the Huragok immediately went over to the Human screen and began pulling it apart.

The first thing Thel noticed was that the Demon was no longer in his armor, and did not wear anything to cover his torso and simply had bandages wrapped all around his torso.

The second and last thing Thel noticed is that the Humans all had eye pieces over their eyes _Without a doubt they are using them to understand our tongue._

The Human female -that Thel guessed was the Captain of the ship- looked around at all of the Diverted soldiers and let out a little chuckle before opening her mouth to speak "Make yourself at home."

_Is she a fool? _"Are you daft?" Thel snapped his mandibles at the Human "We already have."

One of the Humans let out a laugh before the Human female made him stop with a wave of her odd Human hand "I believe introductions are in order." She rubbed her chin.

_Giving pathetic Humans a name is uncomfortable _"So be it," Thel nodded; ignoring his negative thoughts about knowing the Human worm's names "I am Thel 'Lodamee," Thel then gestured to Anve "This is Anve 'Lodamee -my second in command," Thel then gestured to Freyn "That is Freyn 'Okranee," Thel then pointed to Suras and the Huragok "The Huragok is named 'Lighter Than Some' and the Sangheili next to it is named Suras 'Johanamee," Thel than turned and gestured to Kri "And that little bastard over there is Kri."

Kri hissed at Thel with a Unggoy Major stepping forward "And I Yapyap." The small creature beamed.

"Nobody cares about you." Anve snapped his mandibles at the small Unggoy.

The Unggoy let out a cry and hurried back into his two hunched up kin who began to comfort him _Cowardly creatures._

The Human Captain cleared its throat "I'm Captain Courtney Jsarez -Captain of this ship _(I do not care)._"

The Human named Courtney then gestured to a Human female that seemed to have a problem with directing her eyes from Thel "That is Lieutenant Colonel Lynda Keyes -the Commander of _Kryptonite's _entire armed forces _(I do not care)._"

Courtney then turned and gestured to an aggressive looking Human sitting on the edge of one of the wide Human seats "That there is First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan -the second in command of the Marine forces on the _Kryptonite (I do not care)_."

Courtney proceeded to gesture to a Human in a white lab coat that was sitting next to the Human named Frank "This is Doctor Hallas Day -a scientist that ONI sent with the _Kryptonite -_in-case we came across some Forerunner artifacts etc that we may need to examine _(I do not care) _And ONI is... well... our intelligence gatherers and overseers of Spec-Ops and Human security and secret programs," Courtney eyed where the Demon was standing as it said that "They are basically behind a lot of pain you received during your campaign against us."

"Humans that I hate more than normal." Freyn mused as he stroked his lower mandibles.

Courtney ignored Freyn, and gestured to a formal looking Human standing by the left side of the window -with Kri not taking his eyes off of it "That is Lieutenant Rhine Dorhan -another ONI agent _(I do not care)._"

Courtney then gestured to a tall, calm looking Human that was standing by one of the Human's wide seats "This is Captain Dean White -Commander of the Marine detachment of the _Kryptonite (I do not care)_."

Courtney turned to an odd skin Human male that was standing behind her "This is Commander Juan Cortez -My Executive Officer -or the _Kryptonite's_ second in command _(Damn it! I do not care!)_."

Thel could hear and see and hear some of his men getting restless.

Courtney turned to another damned Human that appeared to be in some type of command _Damn Humans and their stupid large ranking system! _"This is Adam Franti -commander of the ODSTs aboard this ship _(I do not care! Damn it!)_."

Courtney decided to unwillingly annoy Thel more and gestured to another Human sitting on the floor; using its knife to carve a Human skull into its chest plate that it had with it _Is this large introduction some type of Human torture? _"Over here is Second Lieutenant George Parker -the third in command of the Marine forces on this ship _(I... do not... care!)_.

Courtney then gestured to the two remaining gruff looking Humans that were both sitting together on a wide Human seat "Lastly: over there is First Lieutenant Rick Cylus -second in command of the ODSTs aboard the _Kryptonite_- and Second Lieutenant Toless Morgan -the third in command of the ODSTs _(I DO NOT... CARE!)_."

Courtney then stretched her arms our as her fingers began twitching _Finally! This farce is over! _"That was the most annoying event I have ever been present to experience," Thel bluntly stated "Now, if you will, I would like to know where our weapons and equipment are as-well as the location of our brother's body."

"Your weapons have taken to a secure section of the armory," The Human female named Lynda informed Thel and his men "You can retrieve them when your ready." _You had better be speaking the truth_

"Your comrade's body has been put in cryo," Courtney added "His body will remain frozen until you wish to collect it."

_What is 'cryo?' _"What is _'cryo'_?" Thel asked Courtney.

"Travelling via ship in space can take awhile," The Human called Hallas explained "It's what we use to keep our bodies from aging while travelling in space. We had to modify a cryo pod in order to fit your friends body in."

"Just keep the body of that worm away from Jol's _'cryo pod'_," Anve told the Humans with a few clicks and snaps of his mandibles _Yes, they better _"I do not want to find that body near his presence."

"That's _too bad_," The Human called Adam snapped at Anve "We aren't gonna take anymore exceptions for you fucking morons -who are prone to _'mistakes'_."

_it is mocking our blind devotion to the Forerunners and the San 'Shyuum _"Watch it, worm." Anve snapped his mandibles at the pathetic creature.

"_Fuck you!_" Adam shot back.

"_Enough!_" Courtney snapped at Adam before turning to Thel "We can't keep the bodies apart; you're just gonna have to put up with this slight _inconvenience_; What Smith did was wrong; he breached multiple protocols and codes. And he would've been punished if you _hadn't killed him_."

"Your discipline is pathetic," Thel shot back at Courtney with an aggressive snap of his mandibles "The worm would have never even thought of such a pathetic and weak thought had it been properly disciplined during its training for your pathetic excuse of a military."

"Reclaimers, can I start my explanation?" The Monarch broke in; obviously trying to stop any further auguring _Perhaps it is better that my fury stays concealed -for the moment._

"Go ahead." Courtney waved for the Monarch to begin.

"I suppose you are wondering why I am here much sooner than I designated," The Monarch began "And I can answer any questions you have with this."

A small photon beam shot from the Monarchs eye; projecting a hologram of some type of Forerunner object _What is that?_

"What is that?" Suras clicked his mandibles in puzzlement.

"A Void Transendor," The Monarch explained "The Reclaimer's ship was in the Void -or: slipspace- for two mini-segments; but with this in my possession, I can make us exit the Void a lot sooner. For example, if a ship was in the Void for a segment, and they had me with them, I could make it that when they exit the Void at the location they were heading too -while a segment may had passed in Void- only five cycles passed in normal space."

_If it speaks the truth... we may be able to end this needless war before it is too late. But why is the Monarch only speaking of this now? _"You did you not mention this earlier?" Thel clicked his mandibles in question at the Monarch.

"I-... I forgot," The Monarch admitted "I have spent the past -approx- one hundred thousand cycles in that facility -alone... I believe I am malfunctioning. I only remembered about the Transendor when the Reclaimer's ship was about to enter the Void. As you may have just heard... I cannot actually predict when the Installations first fired... This is caused by my creators trying to make me as advance as possible; for the more advanced I am, the sooner I shall begin malfunctioning."

_This could be a large problem._

"Rampancy," Courtney mused with the other Humans muttering in agreement "Even Forerunner can't live forever."

_Can this happen again? _"Is there the possibility of this happening again?" Thel asked the Monarch.

"Unlikely," The Monarch replied "I proceeded to scan all the data I have collected over my many years. I discarded the irrelevant data and kept that which matters. While my time left before I fully malfunction is short... -I will survive for another couple hundred years; and with the Monitor's assistance, I may be able to prevent any further malfunctioning -for the moment."

_Data? How could you collect so much data? _"You were within a facility for all that time," Thel clicked his mandibles in confusion "How did you collect so much data."

"Yeah," The Humans called Rhine agreed with Thel "How could you collect so much data in your limited amount of awareness of what was happening in the universe? And how could have you been overloaded with data? You were only created to assist us in locating the Halo Arrays"

"Reclaimers," The Monarch began "I was connected to the most advance Forerunner teleportation grid ever conceived; I had the teleportation data and navigation coordinates for each teleport on the grid. I also had knowledge of many Forerunner intelligence -locations of Forerunner worlds, shield worlds, artifacts, facilities, etc. I also have data of each significant Forerunner being; In sort: I am a living encyclopedia of the universes. And as to how I collected data over the years: I was designed to open my facilities doors every thousand years, and send my Sentinels out to scan the area. And my Sentinels were more advance than any other Sentinel; they could travel in slipspace."

"But unlike the Monitors -who had backup stores for unneeded data -that they could retrieve later- I did not have any back up stores of networks. I was also built with a limited amount of resources and in a limited amount of time -due to the Flood onslaught. It also did not help that I was designed to be more intelligent than any other Forerunner Ancilla in the universe. I had unique programming that required a lot of space in my apparent infinite memory. Now, know this Reclaimers... my creators were advance... but even the mighty Forerunners had limits."

"Will you be a problem?" Courtney asked the Monarch _Its blunt._

"No, Reclaimer," The Monarch replied as it turned to face Courtney "I was -at first- unaware of my minor malfunctioning. But now I am aware; and as I said, I have proceeded to take the necessary precautions to prevent my malfunctioning from continuing -for the moment."

_That is good to hear._

The Human by the name of Cortez let out a chuckle "So you had an advance Forerunner artifact," It pointed at the holographic artifact known as 'the Void Transendor' "But not the Sentinels required to remove you from your mainframe."

_I already asked the Monarch this when we first arrived at this damned ring; and it answered. I wonder as to why the Humans did not ask and learn of this why they were in the Void._

"I have a simple answer for this, Reclaimer," The Monarch replied "and that is because my creators knew that I may malfunction before I made contact with the Reclaimers. And to make the necessary precautions, they kept the Sentinels required for making me mobile -also known as 'Squires'- away from me -in-case I lost my original purpose and protocol, and became insane on my knowledge -using the Squires to my own personal use -ergo: releasing me, and allowing me to cause all matters of damage. That is why my creators decided to keep the Squires on Halo Arrays; so they would be in the Monitor of the Installation's controls -and the Monitors would last a long time before they finally failed -long enough for the Reclaimers to find the Halo Installations."

_An annoying situation that has caused the deaths of so many. I, however, have gotten over my anger at the Monarch for such an event. But by the looks on the Human's faces, they will not be so easy to forgive._

"For fucks sake," Adam sighed "This is complete and utter bullshit."

"The war would be over already if you damn _creators _were actually as intelligent as they should be." The Human named George complained.

_This farce shall not continue _"Whine over the past later," Thel clicked his mandibles at the disgusting looking Humans "I need not this explanation that should have already reached your pathetic ears. I had my questions answered. And I had my brothers wounds healed. I wish now to retire as we await contact with this damned Monitor -and find out the key to leaving this ring. Is there somewhere me and my men can retire?"

"The brig is all we have." The Human named Lynda smirked at Thel _That is not going to be an option._

"Lynda," Courtney rolled her eyes at Lynda before turning to face Thel "You can have this room to yourselves; just don't wreck anything."

_What reason do we have to damage any of your pathetic objects of no meaning? _Thel pushed this thought aside and walked over to a Human wide seat, waved the Humans sitting on it to move -which they immediately did-, and leaped onto the wide seat where he put his hooves up onto the table between the wide seats "Get out." Thel bluntly clicked his mandibles.

"_Fucking split-lips._" Thel heard a Human grumble as it and the other Humans and Demon began to make their way out of the room.

"I have to get something from my quarters," A voice that Thel recognized as Courtney said as the Humans filed out of the room "I'll meet you's on the bridge in ten."

"Please do not get too comfortable," The Monarch told the Diverted as it hovered out of the room "We are approaching the entrance to the maintenance tunnels as I speak."

_Good _"Inform us when the Monitor contacts the damn Humans." Thel told the Monarch.

"Of course." The Monarch replied as its metallic voice got distant.

Thel snaked his head around to observe that the Huragok had pulled apart the Human screen and was rewiring it or something "Suras," Thel called to Suras as he sat down on a wide seat across from Thel "Take the Unggoy and Kri to retrieve our and equipment weapons and check up on the three wounded Unggoy. And take the Huragok to the Humans; see if they can have it do something that may give us an advantage."

"Of course, brother." Suras nodded his head in respect as he hopped back up and went to get the Unggoy that were huddled in a corner; preparing to sleep _Lazy creatures._

"I am not going!" Kri screeched; likely hearing what Thel told Suras "This Human stuff is good."

Thel quickly cocked his head behind the wide seat to see Kri drinking from bottles of Human liquid _Hopefully that stuff will kill him _"Kri can stay here." Thel told Suras as he craned his head back around to face the Human screen.

"_Thanks... Ultra..._" Kri slurred "_Your are the best..._"

Thel could not resist his mandibles forming a grin at the creature's stupidity.

All of a sudden, Freyn drove his good arm into the Human's screen; shattering it and sending the Huragok into a state if fear where it floated over to a corner and curled up while moaning and cooing in sadness _Why did he- I need not ask _"Brother, calm yourself." Thel waved for Freyn to come take a seat.

"Damn Humans!" Freyn growled through his gritted mandibles as he approached the wide seat across from the wide seat Thel was seating in "The Demon is enough; but all of them."

_I understand _"I will make sure we are not around such a large group of the bastards again." Thel reassured Freyn as he spotted Suras calmly grabbing the Huragok's tentacles and lead it towards the entrance to the room.

"Such a _pathetic_ _race!_" Freyn snapped his mandibles in anger as he took a seat "And we have to be in their _pathetic_ _ship_; feeling their _pathetic_ _objects_ and _material_ rub against my armor and skin _(I understand your emotions) _Such worms should not be the inheritors of the Forerunner's Empire! They are not... _worthy!_"

_Perhaps they were in another life _"Before Halo was activated... they may had been worthy of such a title." Thel twitched his mandibles in disgust at what he had just said.

"The Forerunners made a grave mistake," Freyn rubbed the bandage across his neck as Anve took a seat next to Freyn "If the Humans were to take control of such technology... we would be doomed -for I doubt Humanity will forgive our slight."

_I was hoping to avoid such an eventuality for as long as I could._

"Not even we can forgive ourselves," Anve mused to himself "Though, there are the Sangheili that will feel nothing for what we did to the Humans."

_And some Sangheili may not even forgive the Humans for actions they inflicted on us that we made them inflict. But will they act? If they do, those who wish for no more bloodshed may have to stand against their own kin... The Humans may not need to destroy us..._

_We may destroy ourselves..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**A few major side characters designed by certain of my followers appeared in this chapter, and I will point them out.**

**Doctor Hallas Day - gruntbdayparty37.  
>Major Adam Franti (Night's Shadow) - Adam95F.<br>First Lieutenant Rick Cylus (Night's Wing) Nightwing141.  
>Second Lieutenant Toless Morgan (Night's Anger) - NightsAnger.<strong>

**These characters may not have gotten much of an appearance, but I swear their roles will get bigger!**


	15. The Tormented Assassin

_The date was February 9th, 2535. And the Covenant had started their invasion of Jericho VII._

_Green Team was assigned to halt the hostile Covenant forces advancing on the city of Palatine, and assist civilians in EVAC._

_Due to the wide range that Green Team needed to cover, Linda-58 -Green Team's leader- decided to split the team up into splinter teams._

_Beta-Green Team was one of the splinters._

_I was in cover behind a wrecked car. To my left -leaning out of cover and firing his BR55HB Battle Rifle- was Beta-Green One -Petty Officer Second Class Red-098, Beta-Green's leader. And to my left was a large SPARTAN who was reloading his M739 Light Machine Gun -or: SAW-. The large SPARTAN was Beta-Green Three -or: Petty Officer Second Class Jorge-52._

_I had just finished reloading my MA5B Assault Rifle; throwing my empty clip aside, and leaning up over the hood of the wrecked car._

_"Engaging Ultra." I announced as I began firing the Assault Rifle; with its M118 7.62x51mm FMJ AP rounds slamming into the shields of an Elite Ultra._

_Jorge finished off an Elite Major before shifting his fire to the Elite Ultra I was targeting "Need a hand?" He joked as his SAW's M118 7.62x51mm FMJ AP started to bring the Ultra's shields down._

_The Ultra's shields finally burst into electric static as its shields were finally lowered; and the Elite didn't even have time to roar in anger as a FMJ round split its helmet open with purple blood spraying out._

_I smirked at the dead Elite as the Grunts around it entered a panic; with four of them running into a nearby small convenience store, and the other two pulling out their plasma grenades and began charging at us._

_"Hate it when they do that." Jorge growled as he used his strength to jump up onto the wrecked car's roof, and fired five shots; dropping the Grunts as Red killed three of the four fleeing Grunts before the last one managed to get inside the building._

_Despite Jorge's heavy than normal MJOLNIR armor, he still had the agility and endurance of any other SPARTAN._

_I loved the big guy; as I loved all of my brothers and sisters._

_"Beta-Green Two, advance and engage Major class Grunt located in convenience store," Red waved at the store as he and Jorge began firing at a small swarm of Drones that were exiting a broken window of a nearby skyscraper._

_"Affirmative." I nodded as I slung my Assault rifle over my back to hear it connect to the MWHS with a 'click', and then I proceeded to pull out my two M7/Caseless SMGs, and jumped onto the car's roof as Jorge leaped back down into cover behind the car._

_"We got you covered, Sheila." Jorge reassured me over the COM as I jumped off of the car's roof, and ran towards the convenience store; firing my SMGs at the Drone swarm as I ran._

_All of a sudden -as I was nearing the entrance to the alley that went behind the store- an Elite deactivated its optical camo, and swung its energy sword at me._

_"Shit." I muttered as I quickly leaped back; aiming and firing my SMGs at the large Alien._

_As I thought would happen: the 5x23mm M443 Caseless FMJ rounds simply bounced off of the Elites shields._

_Due to the Elite's shield strength, and armor color and shape, -its armor being a dark brown and maroon, and its helmet being similar to a Ultra's; but thinner and without the back slope- I figured it was Spec Ops -which was odd since this was an invasion, and all the Covenant soldiers were tasked with simply killing Humans. What I found odder, though, was that it was by itself._

_I quickly slid my SMGs onto my thighs, and leaped at the Elite; landing a kick into its chest; but, of course, its shields bounced me back, but I managed to bring them down half way._

_The Elite let out a roar of anger as it charged me._

_I simply dodged out-of-the-way then quickly moved behind it where I grabbed its sword arm and pulled it behind its back -it was roaring in pain and anger as I did this- with me quickly snapping its wrist; depleting its energy shields_

_The Elite let out a roar as it dropped its sword and snapped around; swinging its good hand as it turned; I, of course, simply grabbed the hand and snapped it as well before pulling the aliens arm down -bringing its head down- and lifting my knee up to catch the falling Elite in the face; sending to flying back due to the force._

_With the Elite on the ground -purple blood seeping from the gaps in its helmet- I quickly drew my SMGs and shot two rounds from each off them; leaving four bullet holes in the Elites helmet; with blood oozing out of the holes._

_With the Elite dead, I jumped through the stored window -shattering the glass- and turned to aim my SMGs at the Grunt._

_The Grunt had its hands in front of its face and seemed to be crying "Please..." I heard the squeaky Grunt translated voice appear in my ears "Do not kill, Demon, please!"_

_I simply chuckled at the small pathetic creature and raised my SMGs and fired at the Grunt; with it letting out a small cry and gurgle as bright blue blood poured and squirted from the bullets holes before the small creature died._

_With the Grunt dead, and no more Covenant soldiers appearing on my motion tracker, I was satisfied that the store was cleared._

_I turned around and made my way out to find the other Spec Ops Elites._

_Jorge had a Spec Ops Elite pinned to the ground, and was bending its left leg back behind its back; while the Alien was roaring in pain._

_Red, however, was on the back of another Spec Ops Elite. The Elite, of course, couldn't withstand the MJOLNIR's weight, and fell under Red's weight with Red quickly drawing his M6D PDW and shooting three rounds into the Elites head; with the first two bringing its shields down and the last ending its life._

_Red then proceeded to make his way over to Jorge -who was still bending the Elite's leg back- and shot a round into the struggling Elite's head._

_"You just gotta go ruin the fun." Jorge complained as he threw the Elite's leg down and grabbed his SAW and kicked the body of a nearby dead Drone._

_I smiled as I made my way over to my team; knowing that I had a great family._

* * *

><p><span><strong>September 8, 2555 [1236 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard Unknown ****_Sahara_****-class heavy Prowler.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>Barracks in Prowlers were small; the surviving crew of the <em>Kryptonite <em>had to improvise, and mattresses were set up in hallways. But the COs of the _Kryptonite_ were given the barracks -not the same barracks as the crew of the Prowler shared, thankfully.

The barracks had bunks located in every place a person could fit one; with posters, photos, and other personal possessions from the COs of the _Kryptonite _littered over the room. The floor of the barracks was metal which could prove a problem if someone rolled out of bed -thankfully most of the ground was covered with mattresses-, and the walls were very revealing of the ship's infrastructure; with pipes, wires, and the works all revealed.

"Are you okay?" Red asked Nai as he placed a hand onto her forehead; checking her temperature.

"You could'a refrained from bashing your head." Lynda bluntly remarked from her bed.

_She seems to be getting worse _Red was worried about Lynda; she wasn't around a lot, and Red often found her laying on her bed; doing nothing.

"I'm fine." Nai reassured Red as she grabbed a bottle of water that was on a table next to her bunk _Of course you are. And I know that you would tell me if you were in pain._

"I'll go get some more water." White told them as he hopped up from his kneeling position next to the bunk and made his way to the barrack's entrance.

"Could you get me some vodka?" Lynda asked White as he exited the room.

_She's not joking around _"Are you okay?" Red asked Lynda.

Lynda let out a sigh "West wanted to inform me on the status of my family members, but I decided to wait until we got back to Earth where I would have my own quarters in-case-... in-case the news was _bad_ _(This can't be good)_ But while I was eating a meal in the mess... That _fucker _Enterarj -who claims to be a SPARTAN- came right up to me and told me that my brother-in-law and his daughter were... _killed_."

_Damn _"He did?" Red asked; almost letting shock enter his voice.

"Yeah," Lynda nodded from her bed "The fucking cocksucker went ahead and said how they died _(He mocks the SPARTAN title) _Apparently my brother-in-law was killed by the _damn Flood_... and his daughter was killed by the _mother fucking Prophet of fucking Truth!_"

_How unfortunate _"That's not a good thing to hear." Red quietly stated.

Red wouldn't say sorry because he didn't really care for anyone other than his comrades, and he never felt sorry for the dead friend or family of someone he knew. Lynda knew this, and would probably be more offended if he _did _say he was sorry.

"They died like heroes, though," Nai stated to Red, and it also seemed like she was reassuring Lynda as-well "Miranda's actions stopped the end of everything... and Jacob's_... _he crashed his ship on that ring knowing it may be his death; but he _would not _let the Covenant get their hands on the ships data. And according to the reports... he gave the Flood one hell of a fucking fight as he died."

"Yeah." Lynda quietly nodded; tears forming in her eyes _She didn't deserve that. She has been through so much; she didn't deserve that._

"You know," First Lieutenant Rick Cylus -or: Night's Wing- poked his head out from his bunk "I'm pretty sure you can have Enterarj court-marshaled for that."_She can._

"Yeah," First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan agreed from his bunk; as he finished eating a sandwich he had for lunch "Isn't that like... _hateful harassment_ or something like that?"

"It's more than that," Nai added as she grabbed a sandwich from the plate on the table to her side "He broke a lot of rules saying what he said; too many to count."

"I plan on court-marshaling the fucker," Lynda reassured them _Go- wait... I shouldn't let my personal emotions get in the way_ "Bunch of _fucking pricks_ who _disgrace_ the UNSC."

White came back into the room with another bottle of water; but no vodka.

"_Damn it_." Lynda grumbled as she saw that White had no vodka.

"Didn't have any." White explained as he came over and handed the water bottle to Nai.

"Thanks." Nai smiled at White _That is more than a smile._

Red couldn't help but stare sternly at White; who started back in confusion.

"_Red?_" Nai snapped at him "Don't be rude."

_Sorry. _"Sorry, ma'am." Red apologized.

"_The fuck was that about?_" White questioned Red.

_Does he want me to answer? _Thankfully, Red didn't have to answer as West walked into the barracks.

"Sierra." He said as Red hopped up and stood to attention.

"Sir!" Red saluted as the rest of the people in the barracks saluted from where they were.

"At ease." West waved them down with a polite smile.

"Can we _help you_?" Lynda questioned West.

Red knew that Lynda hated ONI -mostly built off of Nai's hate. And despite Red stating that West was decent for an ONI agent, she still was aggressive towards him.

"I wanted to speak to Red." West explained.

_I know what this is about _"What about, sir." Red asked as he took a seat on his bunk.

"You already know; but just to indulge the rest of you, I will gladly say that Enterarj interrupted my lunch break; stating that he bumped into Sierra-098 in teh hall, and the _'old psycho man'_ had said that he wished he ate his dead sister."

Gamble burst out laughing.

"It's not a nice feeling." White stated.

Red turned to face White "I'm sorry about that, sir."

White curiously eyed West _He doesn't fully know what I have told him yet _"It's fine," White reassured Red.

West cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can eat in the interview room, Sierra? We should get as much of this out-of-the-way before we arrive back at Earth."

_Affirmative _"Sounds good, sir." Red immediately hopped up and followed West out of the barracks.

"You like turkey?" West asked them as they made their way down the Prowler's hall; away from the barracks.

Thankfully -due to the Prowler's size- the didn't have to go far to reach the interview room -originally the Prowler's mission room.

_Turkey? Love it. _"Yes, sir." Red replied indifferently.

"Thank God. 'Cause that's all we got for the sandwiches," West elaborated "We barely have enough food left to last us back to Earth; you guys eat a lot."

_You had no idea what we had to eat on Halo _"Sir, the taste of creatures we named 'Bulligons' leaves an everlasting taste that can only be removed with gravy covered spiced chicken with salted potato spuds covering it." Red smiled at the thought of the feast they had when they were first bought onto the Prowler.

"You's couldn't have waited till we got back to Earth? Could you's?" West asked in annoyance as they arrived at the interview room.

_I could have- wait? You're allowing me to say that? _"Sir," Red said as they entered "I recommend you keep me in handcuffs; just in case."

"You can drop the _'sir'_ shit," West waved as they approached their seats _Affirmative_ "And if you recommend it, then _so be it_."

"Frasine,' West called out to the ships A.I as they Red took his seat and West went over to make himself some Coffee _-again _"Call in the guards, and get some food."

"Oh guards... _oh food_..." Frasine joked through the room's intercoms.

West finished getting his coffee and walked over to the table "ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session 5, continue." He said.

"Vale's POV, now." 098 told West.

"I'm actually not as annoyed to hear from the Sangheili's POV as I was before," West stated "In-fact, if what you say is true... then _I actually like Vale_."

_That could make toying with the food's emotions... more amusing... _"Shall I start, then?" Red asked; squinting his eyes at nothing.

"yeah." West excitingly nodded his head and waved for Red to go ahead as he pulled out his Data-pad and took a sip of his coffee.

_Go away... Go away!... THIS IS MY FUCKING HEAD!- For the current time... food... for the current time..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1502 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Prophet Of Pity's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>Vale had to slightly move to his left as the Prophet of Pity threw his goblet at him "<em>THEY ARE INSIDE THE HOLY RING -THE KEY TO OUR SALVATION?!<em>" The Prophet of Pity screamed in rage.

_The headaches he is causing me is becoming more and more disruptive _"Yes, holy Prophet of Pity." Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in reply.

"_WHY DID YOU NOT TRY TO STOP THEM?!" The Prophet screamed._

_I did try... but, of course, that will not be enough _"I did," Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in reply "But our ships did not arrive in time to stop them."

_I know what he is going to say next _"_HERESY! YOU LET THEM ESCAPE!_" The Prophet roared

_Yes. Just what I thought he would say _"It was impossible to stop the Human ship any faster," Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in explanation "In order to catch the Humans, I would need to do the impossible -which I cannot do. If the holy Covenant were capable of doing the impossible... Humanity would have already be destroyed, and the Great Journey would have been started."

_Again, I know what he is going to reply with _"_YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR HERESY!_" The Prophet screamed; Vale saw Careekius -who was standing next to the Prophet of Pity, and was now donned in the Jiralhanae Chieftain armor- winch his eyes at the screaming.

_As I suspected, so predictable _"Take me to the council then," Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in reply "Have the council punish me for being unable to do the impossible. But know that they will not accept to punish me; for it would only make them look like fools."

The Prophet had an annoyed face of defeat on him and let out a loud, annoyed, angry, and defeated groan "_WHY ARE YOU NOT OUT THERE LOOKING FOR THEM?!_" The Prophet of Pity screamed.

Vale noticed Careekius was trying to contain a grin over the Prophet's sudden change of topic _It is good to know that the Prophet of pity's stupidity is noticed not just by Sangheili _"The search is being coordinated by my most trusted Ship-Master at my command -Yexyn Sarasai -Ship-Master of the _Sinful Wind_," Vale explained; twitching his mandibles in annoyance of the Prophet "And as to why I am not coordinating it from the command center: I made the decision to inform you about the current events; less you complain as to why I have not presumed to inform about such drastic turn of events -and go into yet another rage."

The Prophet -yet again- had a shocked expression on his face "_YOU DARE?!_" He screamed

_By the Gods; yes I dare _"Yes." Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in reply.

"Holy Prophet of Pity," Careekius made a legal interruption "I believe the Sangheili in the corner wishes to be spoken of." _Thank the Gods I did not let him be executed._

The Prophet's gaze shifted to the quiet Sangheili who he seemed to only now notice "Who are you?" The Prophet of Pity asked; rubbing his wobbles "A worthy worker of the path indeed, if you are but so patient for I -the holy Prophet of Pity- to have this civil conversation with the oh so worthy Fleet-Master."

_Civil? _Vale watched as his most trusted field operative stepped out of the shadows and bowed to his knees in respect "Qrs 'Jaragsai." He told the Prophet his name with a quiet click of his hidden mandibles; with the voice leaving his mandibles being quiet, emotionless, and cold, very cold.

"A sword-master." The Prophet observed; his rubbing of his wobbles now went into a massage.

"But a good one." Vale clicked his mandibles in confirmation.

Qrs 'Jaragsai was Vale's most trusted and skilled field operative. He was a Special Operation's Officer: wearing midnight black armor -but unlike the rest of his men in his team, the glowing lights coming from the eye sockets in his helmet were red -not blue. Sheathed on Qrs's left thigh was an energy sword that was widely known to glow red -not blue.

Another well know fact about Qrs was that he almost became Arbiter -but managed to regain his honor by eliminating a Heretic assassin -sent by a large group of Heretics- during his hearing -saving the Hierarchs. And since he saved them, the Hierarchs decided to give him a second chance that did not require him becoming the Arbiter, and sent him to kill these Heretics -which he succeeded in doing without a single one of his team dying.

Vale was lucky that the council decided to have him assigned to Vale's fleet.

"Why am I -the holy Prophet of Pity- blessed with the presence of such a one _worthy _to walk the Great Journey's sacred path -which all those who believe walk?" The Prophet of Pity asked Qrs.

Qrs looked towards Vale _He would never speak without my consent _Vale nodded his head for Qrs to speak with him craning his head back around to face the Prophet of Pity "Your holiness, I came for your blessing." Qrs clicked his hidden mandibles in his normal indifferent way.

"My -the holy Prophet of Pity's- blessing?" The Prophet of Pity asked Qrs; curiosity and puzzlement in his voice.

"I will not be here for your next blessing sermon, your holiness," Qrs calmly clicked his hidden mandibles in explanation "And I and my brothers wish to be blessed for our holy mission."

The Prophet let out an annoyed moan "I -the holy and most noble Prophet of Pity- have no time to spend on those so minor on the Great Journey -that all true believers walk _(That is unfair) _But I -the holy Prophet of Pity- do, however, have such time to spend on a hero of the Covenant."

Qrs stayed knelt in respect in-front of the Prophet of Pity _I did warn him of this. Thankfully, I do not sense shock or disappointment in him _"Then, your holiness, I must decline such an offer," Qrs clicked his hidden mandibles in a courteous refusal "I do not believe it is wise for me to be blessed and my worthy men not."

"_You refuse such an offer_ from _me_ -the holy Prophet of Pity?" _This could go many ways -all of which are bad._

Qrs did not flinch at the possible outcome to what could happen next _Please be resourceful and strategic enough to not require my aid _"Yes." Qrs simply clicked his hidden mandibles in conformation.

"Well," The Prophet floated over to him "It is not very courteous -even heresy- to refuse a Prophet's -the voice of our Gods -the Forerunners- offer."

"Your holiness," Qrs clicked his hidden mandibles in indifference "I cannot call myself a leader if I get such an honor and my men can not. Surely you understand that this is a strategic action other than one of defiance." _Perhaps he may have worked his way out of this._

"Holy Prophet of Pity," Careekius made a legal interruption "this worthy Sangheili is the leader of the worthy Fleet-Master's most skilled team of Special Operation Officers. They have been tasked with finding and killing the Heretics, Humans, and Demon. Perhaps a few moments to bless them all may bring about a victory that will make your name sung throughout the Covenant." _Of course: convince him that there is something for him out of this. But I desired to see if Qrs could get himself out of this._

"You did not tell me -the holy Prophet of Pity- your holy duty," The Prophet placed a hand on Qrs's shoulder _You already knew, though _"I -the holy Prophet of Pity- shall be but only honored to give those who will bring about such an end to abominations a blessing through a blessing sermon -may the Gods give you guidance."

"I thank you, your holiness," Qrs clicked his hidden mandibles in cold gratitude "If you will give me but a moment, I shall collect my men."

"Proceed to do this, oh so worthy Qrs 'Jaragsai." The Prophet kindly waved for him to leave.

"I must speak with the worthy Fleet-Master," Careekius told the Prophet of Pity as Qrs got up from his kneeling position _about what _"I ask for but a moment while you are giving the worthy Sangheili their blessing sermon."

"Of course." The Prophet waved for him to leave at his leisure _Is it a chance for Careekius to spy on me for the Prophet of Pity?_

"Come, brother." Vale gestured to the door to the Prophet of Pity's quarters as the Honor Guard moved out of the way before Vale turned around and made his way to the door with it hissing open as he approached it; Qrs and Careekius right behind him.

"Please make haste," The Prophet of Pity called after them as they exited the Prophet's quarters "I -the holy Prophet of Pity- have much time that I cannot waste."

The doors hissed closed behind them, and Qrs began to speak "With all due respect, Chieftain, I need not have your assistance with getting me out of such a position. But I thank you for your assistance in allowing the Prophet to spend his most precious time on both me and my men."

_Another fact that I like about Qrs _Vale was glad when he found out that Qrs did not agree on the conflict between the Jiralhanae and the Sangheili, as-well as Vale. It was a reassuring thought to know that not all of those under his command were blinded by needless hatred.

"I apologize, perhaps I may had been able to wait before making my move." Careekius apologized as they walked into the base's streets.

"It matters not," Qrs clicked his hidden mandibles in reassurance at Careekius as he broke off from them and made his way towards down another street towards the area his men were stationed."The past is irrelevant; the present and future is but all that matters."

Vale and Careekius watched Qrs leave before continuing down the streets.

"Is it inappropriate to laugh about the Prophet's rage?" Careekius finally asked as they stopped off to the side of the street as about two dozen Unggoy filed past them.

_It being inappropriate does not stop Yexyn _"Very," Vale nodded his head before cocking it around to face Careekius "But I do not give a damn."

"Good." Careekius smiled before letting out a hearty roar of laughter; with patrols and other Covenant soldiers turning to look at him.

_I am Glad to know it is not just Sangheili that think of the Prophet of Pity as a fool. Now, to what you wished to speak to me about _"What did you require to speak to me about?" Vale clicked him mandibles in question at the Jiralhanae Chieftain as his laughter died down.

"I wanted to ask if you planned on going with Ship-Master Yexyn 'Sarasai in finding the Heretics and Humans," Careekius explained as he leaned in closer to Vale in order to whisper to him "I did not want to ask; it is just that the Prophet wanted me to ask you myself -rather than him taking his holy time to do so."

_I am blessed to have come across such an amusing and friendly Jiralhanae _Vale could not resist his mandibles forming a grin "I do not plan on going with Ship-Master Yexyn on the _Sinful Wind_; I might have considered it if the holy Prophet of Pity did not try to kill my men every-time I turn my back."

"I will tell the Prophet in direct quotes of this," Careekius chuckled "Or will he will not have me punished for it?"

_He will _"I would not quote," Vale clicked his mandibles in warning "Just for caution of a high likely hood of your punishment."

"I will heed your words with caution." Careekius stated as he turned to make his way back to the Prophet's quarters.

Vale could not resist letting at a chuckle as Careekius walked away; and stretched his long neck and looked up at the sky; seeing the line of the holy ring in the sky.

_That is right _Vale had been so busy over the last couple of cycles that he had almost forgotten one important fact...

_I am on Halo..._


	16. Fleighted Fire

**November 7, 2547 [1521 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**Unknown Forerunner Maintenance Tunnel, Unknown Service Platform, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>Being inside Halo felt strangely <em>safe<em>, and _haunting_ at the same time.

So-far, from what the _Kryptonite's _radars and sensors picked up: the one-way tunnel -there were more ways but they were sealed of with giant hatches- kept on going throughout Halo's infrastructure.

The _Kryptonite _was only able to go one-way, and going backwards to go out the giant hatch they entered the tunnel through was impossible -even if the hatch did open back up.

The tunnel was full of odd platforms and Forerunner architectural structures and towers that seemed to be there to make the tunnel look architecturally pretty and _less empty_.

The platforms also had another good use: the Monitor stated via _another _hacking of the _Kryptonite's _bridge's intercoms that it was against its _"protocol"_ for it to physically enter the ship. Now because of that, Courtney, the Diverted, the Monarch, and a few Fireteams had to exit the _Kryptonite _and use a Pelican to get to a "service platform" -as the Monarch called it- in order to speak with the Monitor.

Courtney left her XO -Juan Cortez- in command of the _Kryptonite _as she went to meet the Monitor.

Thel 'Lodamee also wanted to come. And it bought only its non wounded Elite comrades with it -ergo: Suras 'Johanamee and Anve 'Lodamee. But as they were leaving the ship on a Pelican, when Courtney called Thel by its last name -when it came to the military, she only called friends by their first name- the Elite stated that it and its Elite comrades decided to get rid of the '_ee_' suffix at the end of their names to signal them no longer being in the Covenant. Courtney guessed the '_ee_' suffix was some type of title given to warriors of their race or something like that -she hardly cared enough to ask.

Coming with Courtney, the Diverted, and the Monarch were some handpicked Fireteams.

Lynda led her own Fireteam -Fireteam Absolute- which consisted of Lynda herself: who was the Fireteam's leader and was equipped with a simple MA5B Assault Rifle,  
>Sergeant Major Wade Tulnai: a rifleman and Absolute's second in command who carried a MA5B as-well, but had a stockless M90 CAWS slung over his back,<br>Staff Sergeant Jacob Dalton: Absolute's scout who was equipped with a DMR,  
>Lance Corporal Mysef Alum: who was Absolute's designated marksman and was equipped with a SRS99C-S2 AM as-well as having a M7 SMG on his left thigh, and there was Lance Corporal Edmund Howartz: Absolute's heavy weapons specialist who was equipped with a SAW and had a M41 SSR MAVAW with four missiles slung over his back.

Courtney also had a newly formed Fireteam -Fireteam Wreckage- come with them which consisted of Sierra Red-098: who was the team leader and had a BR55 Battle Rifle,  
>Corporal Lex Collins: who was Wreckage's heavy weapons specialist and second in command who was equipped with a M247 General Purpose Machine Gun in her hands, had a M7 SMG on her left thigh, and had a M319 Individual Grenade Launcher slung over her back,<br>Lance Corporal Tom Harvad: who was a riflemen and was equipped with a MA5B Assault Rifle and had a M7 SMG on his left thigh,  
>Lance Corporal Dominic Tesforn: Wreckage's Scout and was equipped with a DMR,<br>Private First Class Peter Call: another riflemen who was equipped with a MA37 Assault Rifle,  
>and Lance Corporal Mary Trinsky: Wreckage's designated marksman who was equipped with a SRS99 and had a MA5B Assault Rifle slung over her back.<p>

With two full Fireteams, the Monarch and its Sentinels, and three Elites covering her, Courtney knew they had the Monitor by the balls if it tried anything. That was until they arrived at the platform and saw that the Monitor was surrounded by at least 200 Sentinels.

"Fireteam Night," Courtney said over the secure COM channel -that only her and the Fireteam's had access to- as she hopped out of the hovering Pelican's blood-tray; the Elites, Absolute, and Wreckage right behind her "this is Guest. We are at the ballroom and require status on your visual of the Ballroom along with the Host and his hence -how copy? over."

"Guest," A voice replied over the COM as Courtney watched the two Fireteams spread out and raise their weapons at the Sentinels that got too close "This is Night One. That's a solid copy. We have a solid visual on the Ballroom along with the Host and his hence -how copy? over."

_Solid copy _"Night One, this is Guest. Solid copy. Out." Courtney replied over the COM as she saw the Elites go away from the group and make their way over to the Monarch who -along with its Sentinels- just arrived at the platform after deciding that it -along with its Sentinels- would travel here by themselves rather than in the Pelican that was already pretty full.

Courtney wasn't stupid; she knew that if the Monitor went rampant and attacked them they would be sitting ducks. That's why she took other precautions then just having Fireteam Night watching over them.

The Monarch had stated that the W/AV M6 G/GNR -or: SPARTAN Laser- was the most effective weapon against a Monitor that the _Kryptonite _had. So Courtney outfitted three of Night's five member team with SPARTAN Lasers to deal with the Monitor if it went aggressive, while the other two team members were equipped with Covenant Pulse Rifles that were collected by Night back on _Atmosus_,and was known to be effective against energy shields, and would prove effective against the Sentinel's shields.

"Welcome, Reclaimers!" 16807 Fleighted Fire cheery said; its blue eye fading and lighting up as it spoke -like it was its mouth.

Courtney watched as Red raised his BR at a Sentinel that was too close and pointed for it to back up; which it did.

_Is he even thinking about what we talked about? _Courtney had meant to speak with Red again after the meeting, but needed some time to herself. And when she was done crying, it would be too conspicuous to ask to speak to him again -Courtney wanted to avoid letting anyone else find out about Red other than those who already knew -ergo: Timmy, the medics that were there when she revealed she was Red's sister, Brian Davis, and Lynda.

Lynda, Davis, and the medics wouldn't be a problem -they wouldn't dare go against her orders, and they were loyal to her to the core. Plus, some of the medics thought that ONI was behind this as-well as Courtney did, and proceeded to show their disapproval.

Timmy was another matter. But Courtney doubted that he would go against her orders -which an A.I is only programmed to do in dire situations- and tell the crew about something that she was planning on doing anyway.

As long as Courtney told the crew the truth within 5 years -Timmy being 2- she should not have to worry about Timmy doing anything hateful towards her. And Courtney planned on telling her crew way before then.

"I am 16807 Fleighted Fire," The Monitor introduced itself, _again_ as they finally stopped in front of its floating orb form "I am the Monitor of Installation 06."

Courtney turned to face the Monarch "Names don't matter, right?" She asked.

"No, Reclaimer." The Monarch confirmed in its metallic voice.

The Monarch told the crew of the _Kryptonite _that telling it or the Monitor their names was irrelevant since they were programmed to refer to all Humans as "Reclaimer/Reclaimers"

The Fleighted Fire turned to the Monarch; as if only now noticing it "Oh, I would have assumed the Ur-Didact would have had assisted Humanity by now. And make your function obsolete."

Courtney turned to face the hovering Monarch _That's right. _From what the Monarch told Courtney and her crew: The Ur-Didact was an _actual _living Forerunner that was locked away on a Forerunner _'shield world' _called _'Requiem'_. Apparently the Ur-Didact was meant to assist Humanity in ascending into the role as _'guardians of the galaxy' _But obviously had other ideas. Courtney often wondered if the reason the Ur-Didact wasn't helping Humanity was to do with the fact that He was driven mad by the Flood!

Whatever the case: Courtney decided she would try to use this information as a bargaining chip against ONI -if the need arisen.

"The Ur-Didact has not been assisting Humanity; I believe he is still on Requiem," The Monarch replied "You would be surprised the chaos his absent has caused."

_No shit! Just another way the 'all so mighty' Forerunners have fucked up!_

"The Ur-Didact not assisting Humanity -as intended by the Librarian- is a drastic breach of plans, protocol, and is just drastic to full measures _(When the guardians of the galaxy are so close to extinction... then yeah, it's drastic)_" Fleighted Fire observed as it hovered closer to the Monarch "But another current situation requires attention: I did not proceed to make this Installation's Squires assist you in becoming mobile from your Parisadal. Would you be so kind as to explain why there is a possible breach of protocol?"

_This is wasting time _Courtney decided to hold her tongue "A Huragok made me mobile." The Monarch elaborated.

"What?!" Fleighted Fire exclaimed in its high-pitched metallic voice "Having a Huragok in your installation is a breach of the same protocol-"

"The Huragok was here," The Monarch broke in "I was still connected to my Parisadal when I arrived. And long after we arrived, one of my Sentinels discovered the Huragok in a nearby complex."

"There was no Huragok tasked to this Installation," Fleighted Fire stated as it floated away from the Monarch "How did one arrive here?"

"Irrelevant at the moment," The Monarch replied "But I am wondering why you have not contacted me and the Diverted in the large amount of time we have been present on this installation."

Fleighted Fire turned back around to face the Monarch _I would like to hear this as-well _"It was protocol for me to make immediate contact with you," Fleighted Fire began "But the Flood divided my attentions; I could not leave my post; I needed to properly coordinate the Sentinels and close off access hatches to the holding installations within this Installation -a task that only I could achieve. If I followed protocol to the letter... you would all be eliminated at this moment"

"That justifies your failure to contact us." Thel joined in with a few clicks of its now hidden mandibles -it had no helmet when it came aboard the _Kryptonite_. But thankfully, a set of Elite Ultra armor was in the _Kryptonite's _armory - which was collected by Fireteam Night for research and development -getting Covenant equipment was very, very hard. And Courtney was thankful for Night's extreme skill in killing targets without damaging armor.

"No, it does not," The Monarch broke in "Closing off the access hatches within this Installation would not taken any longer than a week."

"I only just began that protocol," Fleighted Fire countered "my previous location within the all-service tunnels _(All service, huh?)_ enabled me unable to access the surface. If you would allow me to elaborate: I was trapped within this Installation's all-service tunnels since: 3 days, five hours, 54 minutes, and 13 seconds -and counting- ago. I have since spent the past time -as designated- enacting on containment protocol."

_We are wasting precious time; every minute is another ten Humans dead! _"We need to leave this ring," Courtney broke in "Can you drop the gravity well?"

"That would be a breach of protocol," Fleighted Fire replied _Of course it fucking is! Nothing is ever easy!_ "But my creators did not design this Installation to be the largest for holding the Flood without producing a fail-safe protocol."

A photon beam shot from Fleighted Fire's eye and landed on the ground; making a few of the Fireteam members raise their weapons, and a holographic replica of Halo appeared on the ground; the group had to move back to make room.

"The Flood holding facilities were built within this Installation's all-service tunnels. This allowed their containment to be easier -if they were ever to break out of their holding facilities," Courtney and the group watched as the holographic replica of Halo melted its exterior to show the holding facilities within its infrastructure "If the Flood were ever to break out of their selective holding facilities, they would have to work their way through many of this Installation's all-service tunnels to reach the surface of this Installation."

Courtney began pacing as Fleighted Fire continued "Given the large amount of time it would take for the Flood to reach the surface of this Installation, I would have the necessary amount of time to enact on the containment protocol, and close of access hatches in the all-service tunnel -effectively trapping the Flood within the ring where they would no doubt die of starvation over time."

"And that is this 'containment protocol'?" Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in question as it crossed its arms across its chest.

"Yes," Fleighted Fire confirmed "Though my proceedings to enact on protocol has been unsuccessful _(You don't say) _Although I have followed protocol every step of the way, a large amount of Flood have escaped to this Installation's surface."

"And that is why you activated the gravity well?" Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in question again.

"Yes." Fleighted Fire confirmed.

"A few more minutes and we would have been gone," Lynda grunted in annoyance "bad fucking timing." _She's right: the amount of inconvenience on this damn ring is mind-blowing -in a bad way!_

"I am sorry for any inconvenience, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire apologized "But I cannot deactivate the gravity well -less I breach protocol."

_Then what is the damn protocol? _"So," Courtney finally said "We can't leave this ring?"

"Oh you can," Fleighted Fire replied "but the containment of the Flood must be enacted on first. Currently, I am unable to act on protocol to my full potential. Allow me to elaborate: I have proceeded to close off access hatches within the all-service tunnels, but I cannot keep up with the rate the Flood are spanning."

"So you cannot close all access hatches before the Flood break out?" Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in question.

"Correct," Fleighted Fire confirmed "But I can increase the rate at which the access hatches for the all-service tunnels are closed with the assistance of the Reclaimers."

_Why us? _"What can _we_ do?" Courtney sternly questioned Fleighted Fire.

"You are the Reclaimers. My Sentinels cannot assist me in closing the access hatches to the all-service tunnels -that is not their function. But there is only one other source other than the Monitor of this Installation -me- that can assist me in my designated protocol -the Reclaimers."

_It wants us to assist in closing the hatches that are quite possibly flooded with... Flood _"You want our help in helping you close the access hatches." Courtney mused -not questioned.

"Correct," Fleighted Fire confirmed "With the assistance of the Reclaimers, we can reduce the containment protocol from approximately 3 days, 7 hours, 43 minutes, and 14 seconds to approximately 1 day, 2 hours, 30 minutes, and 58 seconds."

_That would require me to put my men at risk _"Are the Flood a threat around these access hatches?" Courtney asked in a stern, but worried tone.

"No," Fleighted Fire replied "The Flood are -currently- not present at the designated access hatches." _Thank God._

Courtney watched as the holographic replica of Halo showed the areas her men would need to go -in real time as she could she dozens of Sentinels floating around the areas.

_So what happens after the Flood is contained to the 'all-service' tunnels? _"We close the hatches and then what?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"We must than proceed to eliminate all Flood forces located on the surface of this Installation." Fleighted Fire explained.

"The Diverted can assist with this," Thel broke in with everyone turning to face it "Our plasma weapons have proven effective at killing the Flood," Thel turned to face Courtney _What do you want, though? _"If we have your dropships and some of your soldiers assisting us, we can kill the Flood from the air."

"That would prove effective," Fleighted Fire agreed "But, unfortunately, the Flood on the surface of this Installation are only located in one location on the surface of this Installation; and that place cannot be accessed by aerial vehicles. But these Flood are more or less contained with my Sentinels and Enforcers working at this current time to eliminate them. But as for the Flood forces outside the quarantine zone: I believe you can act on your plans, and I will send any un-tasked Sentinels and Enforcers to assist you."

_This may help with the time constraints _"So," Courtney began rubbing her chin "by the time the access hatches are closed -the Flood contained to the ring's lower infrastructure and this 'quarantine zone'- the Flood forces on the surface of Halo will be eliminated as-well."

"The possibility of that is high," Fleighted Fire replied; reassuring Courtney "Once these two steps are enacted on and completed, we can then move to the next part of the containment protocol."

_Please be easy _"And what's that?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"I must use the Seer to scan the Reclaimer's ship -as-well as the meddler's ships _(The Covenant, I take it?) _Once I confirmed that the ships are clear of any Flood lifeforms, I will deactivate the gravity well for ten minutes before reactivating it."

_Will that be an easy step? God, I hope so _"How long should scanning the ships with this_ 'Seer' _take. And what damage could it do to our ship?" Courtney asked Fleighted Fire.

"Zero damage, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied "the Seer was manufactured without the damage of physical objects in the mind of my creators. As for the designated time: it will take approximately two hours to scan all of the ships."

_Two hours? Fucking hell... that's not long indeed. It's starting to sound like we might make it _"Sounds _damn_ _good_ to me." Courtney had to resist the urge to grin.

"I understand the inconvenience of the mandatory containment protocol, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire began to hover around as if it were pacing "But the alternative was the last resort protocol -if the containment protocol was to fully fail- and I did not wish to ever have to enact on that protocol."

_What protocol? _"What was the alternative?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"Activating Halo." Thel answered her.

_Shit _Courtney turned to face Fleighted Fire "Is this true?"

"Yes, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire confirmed "But it was not without its problems. First: a Reclaimer is required to activate this Installation. Second: the Index -which is also required to activate this Installation- is located in the Library which is unfortunately where the Flood on the surface of this Installation are gathering -the quarantine zone I was recently elaborating on, to be more precise."

The holographic replica of Halo zoomed into what Courtney assumed was the 'Library'. And she saw what looked like a giant bug hive covering the landscape and the Library facility itself _Is it coincidental that they are gathering at a place that holds the key to their end? And is the same place they are being contained_

"They know of its purpose," The Monarch concluded "They do not wish us to obtain the Index."

_What about them? _"They can't just take it and hold it somewhere safer?" Courtney asked the Monitor with it turning to face her.

"No, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied "They have no reason to; for the Library is currently the most secure facility on this Installation."

"Wait, wait," Thel clicked its hidden mandibles in alarm with everyone turning to face him "If the _bastard Pity_ finds out all that is required to start the _fake Journey_ is a _single Huma_n and the _'sacred Icon'_ then the end of everything could happen very soon."

_Fuck! Its right! _Shock appeared in Courtney's eyes; something she never let happen.

"I can initiate lock-down protocols and procedures around the Control Room," Fleighted Fire began "But the meddler's weapons -which seem to be built off of the weapons of my creators- will be able to break through the lock-down of the Control Room."

_Just as our luck gets better, it fucking goes down hill._

"I doubt the Prophet of Pity will allow damage to come to our _'God's'_ sacred creations... but it is possible the council may let an exception if it means the start of the fake Journey."

"So I guess we're gonna have to keep the Index from falling into the Covenant's hands," Lynda grunted in annoyance and anger "And I suppose we can't even just _bombard_ the fucking Library with the _Kryptonite's _MAC, could we?"

_I doubt it since Fleighted Fire said that aerial units can't access the quarantine zone _"Can we?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"No," Fleighted Fire replied "I am functioned to not allow any damage to come across this Installation _(What?!) _But even if I were not, the Library has a containment shield initiating from the Sentinel wall surrounding the Library -in order to keep the Flood contained to the Library -which has failed due to the Flood utilizing the only way through the Sentinel wall. And the only way to get through the wall and the containment shield is using an anti-gravity gondola to traverse through the wall -this is how Flood forces have been able to leave the quarantine zone."

_So, to keep the key to the end of everything out of the hands of a bunch of religious alien fanatics, we need to go through a hive of thousands of Flood? I know it is mandatory to get the Index... but how many of my men will die doing so? _"I was hoping that no Human's would die on this damn ring _(The exception of Smith who is already dead) _But I understand that we need to get this _'Index'_, So I-"

"Let me engage in this priority one, high risk mission," Red broke in with everyone turning to face him _No! I don't want to lose you without even getting you back! _"My effectiveness on missions is increased when I engage on a mission as a single team. And I will be able to engage and accomplish the mission at a faster rate as a single team."

_I don't want this to be an option! _"All of this Installation's Sentinels and Enforcers that are un-asked will be redirected to assist you, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire added "A single Reclaimer may be simpler for this Installation's Sentinels and Enforcers to assist; and I cannot help but notice this Reclaimer's combat armor that may give him an advantage against the Flood."

_Is Karma so cruel as to take my brother away from me? What the fuck have I ever done for those close to me to be fucked around like this?! It was to be so, so simple; just exit slipspace, get Red and the Covenant separatists, and jump to a random slipspace vector before jumping back to Earth. Why couldn't it be so easy? Now, I found my brother... and now I may lose him again _Courtney didn't respond for the longest of times; she was thinking about her answer. _But who am I to put my personal feelings before Humanity?_

After what seemed like hours, Courtney finally had her answer "It's a plan; if not a _dangerous one._ But I agree with everything you say; Red will go in -with the assistance of the Sentinels and these _'Enforcers'_- get the Index, then get the _hell out_."

_I will grind ONI to dust for this..._


	17. No Calm Before the Storm

_The sun was setting over Sarasee Keep as I stood on the balcony; watching it set and dwelling on my recent actions._

_I still could not come around the fact that I was the only one to know of the Kaidon's dishonor, and how I was the only one who acted on it -and survived._

_I was not even an Elder; yet, I took this Lineages politics into my own hands -and in return, I not only survived, but also obtained the trust of the Elders._

_"He may had been your father." I heard the familiar clicks of Yue 'Sarasee's mandibles, and I cocked my head around to see him walk to my side where he to watched the sun set._

_Of course, I was taken aback by his comment "Please do not bring up the horrors of the reality," I clicked my mandibles in disgust "I will not allow my mind to be clouded with the idea of that bastard being the one who gave me life."_

_Yue let out a chuckle through his grinned mandibles "Who would you desire to be your father?"_

_That took me by surprise: he knew that it was him I wished to be my father. Yet, he wished me to say it. I decided that -due to his bluntness- I would toy with him "A Sangheili father? Please, I am but too almighty to had have had been created by a mere mortal Sangheili."_

_Yue parted his mandibles and let out a laugh "Your avoidance of a mere question is legendary! Be sure to use this strategy when you become Kaidon; and make no mistake, you will be Kaidon."_

_I highly disagreed with him "No, brother," I replied "I will always answer a question... no matter what it beholds."_

_Yue began rubbing his mandibles at what I said "That will make you an even greater leader and politician; a stronger one that will never withhold secrets."_

_I formed my mandibles into a grin over what he said. I could not withhold my excitement to be considered a potential great leader._

_And how a leader I turned out to be..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1712 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>"Fleet-Master, We have found him." Vale suddenly heard General Trerx 'Huldamee say over his console and immediately tuned back into the world and began bringing up his communications with the search parties.<p>

_He is dead, I know it; there is no use for denial in my mind _"Is he dead, brother?" Vale clicked his mandibles in question over his console "Where did you find him?"

"We found him but a two unit walk to the east of the Forerunner tower the Heretics were hold up in, Fleet-Master. _We_... we could only identify him by the Zealot grade armor that was next to his... _bones_ -the flesh eaten clean off of them; he was not consumed by a creature of this sacred ring _(Jiralhanae)_"

"Bring him home, brother," Vale told Trerx "I mean to have words with the holy Prophet of Pity."

"Understood, Fleet-Master." Trerx replied as Vale docked his floating command chair and made his way out of his quarters.

He had yet to receive word back from the high Prophet of Truth on whether he could forcefully detain the Prophet of Pity. But this revelation meant that Vale could at least legally force the Prophet of Pity to speak with him.

Vale was glad that Trerx's skill in field operations found Var's body so soon. Vale was, at first, reluctant to shift Yexyn from leading the search for Var to pursuing the Humans and Heretics. But Vale now regretted not making Trerx the leader of the search sooner; for as much as Vale believed Yexyn to be a perfect leader, he was, however, not very good when it came to searching for_ something._

Vale dusted of some dirt on his ceremonial robe -it was heresy to wear normal robes in the presence of a Prophet for some damn reason- and exited his quarters.

_What am I beholding? Of course, how could I even ask myself that _The first thing Vale noticed when he exited his quarters was at least a hundred Sangheili in the yard in-front of his portable quarters; crouching in respect and mourning _Of course they already know._

Vale began making his way down the ramp that led from his quarters down to the yard; placing a reassuring hand on the shoulders of each Sangheili in his path.

"News travels fast." Vale remarked as he placed his hand on the shoulders of a Sangheili Major by the name of Tev 'Vudalnee.

"General Trerx made the wise decision on informing us first so we could act in this way of honor for Var -and for you, brother." A Sangheili Ultra by the name of Frnai 'Caluxee informed Vale.

_A wise choice _Vale nodded his head in agreement before cocking it up at the sight of Careekius making his way through the crowd to Vale with Var's cloak calmly folded in his hands _He honors me by doing this._

Careekius wore different armor then Literus did. His armor was not pitch black all over like Literus's armor. And was instead red with glowing blue engravings and patterns along it. He did not wear a helmet, nor did he have any belts of trophies he had gathered. His armor was also nicely clean -unlike Literus's which was dirty and rusty. Along Careekius's back was his gravity hammer which was very default for a gravity hammer; having no trophy belts along it and no personal engravings -unlike Literus's whose gravity hammer looked like an honor podium instead of a weapon.

"Brother, I have my most loyal warriors out looking for those responsible for this _blight_; they will be found, and they will be _swiftly _executed," Careekius assured Vale as he stopped in front of him and handed him Var's cloak "I should had returned this sooner; but it was... _so soft_."

_You touch me with your respect _"Thank you," Vale nodded his head in respect "I must now make heed to have words with the holy Prophet of Pity."

"He knows of this atrocity and of your haste to see him," Careekius informed Vale "I do not know why the holy Prophet of Pity attempted to avoid you for such a large amount of time... but he no longer plans to do so; he told me this himself."

_I was not going to let him avoid me anymore, anyway _Vale nodded in respect at Careekius again before continuing to the Prophet's quarters.

_I do not like the high chances of him being behind this... he has motive... and if he did have Var killed, I will have his entrails scattered around High Charity before this segment is up..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1716 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Armory, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>"What's <em>that?<em>" Courtney asked Fleighted Fire at the sight of the most advance set of armor she had ever seen _Please tell me this is this 'class twelve' armor it was talking about._

Fleighted Fire decided that its "protocol" now allowed it to enter the _Kryptonite_. But before it did, it decided to go to Halo's armory and get some Forerunner weapons, equipment, and a single set of "class twelve" armor to use against the Flood -with the assistance of five of the _Kryptonite's _Pelicans. And it and the Pelicans eventually returned with enough Forerunner weapons and equipment to outfit the entire crew of the _Kryptonite_.

"A class twelve combat skin," Fleighted Fire confirmed Courtney's suspicions as Red and doctor Hallas Day began inspecting the armor "Your combat skin is but an un-shielded primitive class two version, and that will not be effective against the Flood -as I had designated earlier on out first meeting, Reclaimer."

Courtney inspected the armor: it was pure white with small floating objects coming from the armor's back and shoulders. There was also blue holographic symbols hovering from the armor's shoulders and chest. There was also blue engravings coming from between the gaps in the armor. The armor itself was heavily -but neatly- plated, but Courtney didn't believe the armor to be all that heavy. The armor was also very smooth and curved with not a single sharp shape on the armor. The gauntlets of the armor curved backwards as-well with the armor having its elbow guards coming right up to the shoulders and almost looked like they were to serve as shields. The helmet also seemed very _alien _with a curved and round spike coming from both sides of the jaw, and the visor being small and thin and located in the middle of the helmet to give the armor a cyclops look. But though it looked all _fine _and _dandy_,Courtney couldn't _actually _see anyway to get into the armor

Courtney smiled as she watched Red . It reminded her of when he was 5 and he used to examine their father's creations -their father used to build small animal enclosures and the works to sell at the city _He still seems like such a child._

"This class twelve combat skin is capable of shifting to fit any size -and any species -if protocol designated it," Courtney turned to watch Fleighted Fire as it explained the armor "The armor is also fitted with a Z-90 Photonic Coalescence Emitter which will protect the combat skin in a hardlight shield from damage until a hostile brings the hardlight shield down. And when the hardlight shield is down, the designated Reclaimer will have to protect themselves for 4.7 seconds until the hardlight shield recharges -which will take 2.6 seconds. I am also happy to announce that Sentinels are functioned to assist in reinforcing the armor's hardlight shields."

_How does he get into the armor in the first place? _"How does he even _get in_?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

Fleighted Fire turned to face Courtney "It is quite simple, Reclaimer, the gravity field around the combat skin allows the combat skin to pull itself apart before building itself around the designated Reclaimer."

_How?_ "How does he make it _'fall apart'_?" Courtney narrowed her eyes at the hovering Monitor.

"The designated Reclaimer can do it as they desire once the armor is connected up to their brain via a specialized mental interface," Fleighted Fire began to explained _Does it mean a neural interface? This could be a problem_ "But when a Reclaimer is to use a combat skin for the fist time, a Reclaimer will need the assistant of a designated Forerunner mobile Ancilla to assist them. Thankfully, that is one of my many functions. When the designated Reclaimer so does choose so, I will pull the combat skin apart before making it build around the designated Reclaimer's body. Once this step in the protocol is completed, the Reclaimer can equip or remove the combat skin as they so desire -since they are connected to the combat skin via the mental interface."

_What is this mental interface? Does it mean a neural interface _"How does this _'mental interface' _work?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"Well," Fleighted Fire began "we must first remove the designated Reclaimer's current mental interface-"

_That won't be an option _"We can't do that," Courtney broke in as Red turned around to face the Monitor himself, he clearly didn't want to have his SPARTAN neural interface removed "The neural interface in Red- _(Shit) Sierra-098's_ skull is essential to Sierra-098's combat efficiency; not to mention it is required for him to wear his current armor."

"Fear not, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire began "The designated Reclaimer's current combat skin will be irrelevant once the designated Reclaimer has this combat skin. As for the designated Reclaimer's current mental interface's properties: I can have the Huragok on this ship -designated 'Lighter Than Some'- transfer that mental interface's properties to this combat skins mental interface -effectively adding the two properties together."

_That may work... but ONI will still have my ass. But then again... I don't give a fuck about ONI anymore -Humanity is all that matters _"Will this be safe?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire.

"I am 100 percent positive that the operation to change -and update- the designated Reclaimer's mental interface will work." Fleighted Fire reassured her.

_You better fucking have gotten those facts right _"This better work." Courtney sternly warned Fleighted Fire before noticing that Red didn't seem fazed over Courtney's decision _Does he even care about having a potentially life threatening operation? Does he even want to protest?_

Suddenly the doors to the armory hissed open and Courtney, Fleighted Fire, Gunnery Sergeant David Bishop -who was busy checking out the Forerunner weapons-, doctor Hallas Day, and Red turned to see the non wounded members of the Diverted enter the armory.

Thel turned to Courtney and let out a distasteful snort through its hidden mandibles _(Well fuck you to) _before going with its soldiers to equip themselves with Forerunner weapons -for when they soon go hunting after the Flood outside the quarantine zone.

"Reclaimer," Courtney heard Fleighted Fire call her and quickly turned back around to face it "Due to the time it will take to properly equip the designated Reclaimer with the combat skin -it will take approximately 2 hours, 9 minutes, and 18 seconds- I highly recommend that only this Reclaimer should be equipped with the class twelve combat skin at this time -at least until the need for more Reclaimers to be equipped with the class twelve combat skin arises."

_Just how many of these armor sets are there? _"How many more armor sets like this are there?" Courtney questioned Fleighted Fire as she watched a Forerunner weapon assemble in the hands of one of the Elites.

"I believe you wish to avoid specifics, so I will count the combat skins as a whole: 590. There is 590 combat skins of all classes on this Installation."

_Holy FUCK! _"I can equip every soldier on this ship -and more- with those numbers." Courtney stated to herself.

"Yes, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire agreed "But the time to follow the necessary protocols will take too long. I recommend that only the designated Reclaimer be equipped with this armor at the current time."

_Can you still bring the armor aboard? Another bargaining chip against ONI is all I need _"Can you get the rest of the armor aboard -just in-case?" Courtney asked Fleighted Fire.

"The time required for such a procedure is too great to properly calculate," Fleighted Fire stated "Such a procedure may be enacted on if the need arises, or the containment protocol enacted on and completed first."

_I suppose it doesn't really matter if we have one suit. And if ONI gives me what I want... then I'll give them the location of this shit-hole, and they can deal with this damn Monitor themselves._

"Ma'am," Timmy's avatar appeared on a nearby holo-tank before Courtney could speak again "I don't mean to interrupt, but I don't like what the Huragok is doing to some of the _Kryptonite's _systems."

_Note to self: Artificial Intelligence and Forerunner organic supercomputers don't get along well _"Is the Monarch supervising it?" Courtney asked Timmy in an annoyed and frustrated tone.

"Yes, ma'am." Timmy said, he was obviously aware that he annoyed Courtney.

"Then _we don't need to worry_ about the Huragok _fucking anything up_." Courtney rolled her eyes.

"ONI won't like this." Timmy muttered as his avatar disappeared _Ironic; I didn't like the fact that ONI KIDNAPPED MY SIX YEAR OLD BROTHER _Courtney had to refrain from hitting the nearby wall.

"Is what we hear from the Monarch correct?" Thel suddenly clicked its hidden mandibles in question with everyone turning to face it "Can that armor be worn by any species advanced enough to use armor for combat?"

"Yes," Fleighted Fire confirmed "It is-"

"That is a bad thing," Thel interrupted Fleighted Fire "If it were just Humans that could use the armor... _(I see where you're going with this) _we may have had visual leverage that the Humans _are the Reclaimers_." _A lost potential... I don't even know what to think of this..._

"Don't touch that!" Courtney heard Gunnery Sergeant Bishop yelled with everyone turning around to see that the Jackal named Kri was pulling some weapons apart.

The Jackal let out a hiss at Bishop and Courtney just let out a sigh of annoyance as she turned back around to face the armor. And she saw that Red was still inspecting the armor.

_I suppose we shouldn't waste anymore time _"R- _(Damn it) Sierra_," Red turned to face her "You ready?"

"Affirmative, ma'am." He nodded.

Courtney wanted to go and hug him, she didn't want to lose him again. She wanted to hold him and say how much she missed him... how much she loved him _He'd likely kill me if I touch him without his consent _Courtney couldn't hide the sadness and worry that appeared in her eyes. And Day must have seen the worry in her eyes "Don't worry, ma'am," He made a reassuring smile "I'll make sure nothing goes wrong."

_Of course you will! ONI won't want anything bad to happen to their 'precious SPARTANs'... _Courtney simply nodded at Day with him smiling at her again before waving for Red and Fleighted Fire to follow him.

Anger and frustration was boiling up inside her as Red, Fleighted Fire, and Day left the armory. And once they were gone, she slammed her fist into the nearby wall.

"Captain?!" Bishop asked in a worried and confused tone as he rushed over to her aid "You okay, ma'am?" He took her hand and began to inspect it for damage.

_No, I'm not. Everything is shit! _Courtney noticed her hands were twitching uncontrollably "Why did you do that?" Courtney heard Thel click its hidden mandibles in question at her.

_Because you're right _Courtney let out a sigh "...Because Humanity is as fucked up as you believe it is..."

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1719 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Prophet Of Pity's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>The doors to the Prophet of Pity's quarters hissed open and Vale entered the portable building to find that the Prophet of Pity had his gravity throne facing away from the entrance.<p>

Vale narrowed his eyes at the sight but suddenly the gravity throne slowly began to turn around to show the Prophet of Pity was calmly patting a furry creature from Eayn that was in his lap "I -the holy Prophet of Pity- have been expecting you, oh so worthy Fleet-Master." The Prophet of Pity smiled.

_This somehow seems very... cliché... _Vale pushed the thought aside and approached the Prophet of Pity before kneeling in respect "Holy Prophet of Pity, I must speak to you of the fate of Zealot Var 'Lultamee."

"Yes..." The Prophet of Pity sighed "I -the holy Prophet of Pity- was in great sorrow when the news reach my -the holy Prophet of Pity's- noble attention _(I doubt that) _It is even more devastating when I -the holy and most noble Prophet of Pity- had not yet placed him back on the Great Journey."

_What?! _Vale suddenly jumped up and startled the Honor Guards, making them raise their lances at him "What do you mean?" Vale clicked his mandibles in question at the Prophet of Pity.

"I -the holy Prophet of Pity- removed him from the holy path -remember?," The Prophet of Pity began rubbing his wobbles "But I -the holy Prophet of Pity- had yet to relinquish his removal from the Great Journey; he will not see paradise... but only embrace the Eternal Darkness for all eternity."

_You wanted this to happen; you made this happen _"You had him killed." Vale realized.

"_HERESY!_" The Prophet screamed in rage "_YOU DARE ACCUSE ME -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY- OF SUCH AN ACT?_"

_I do accuse you _"Yes." Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in confirmation.

The Prophet of Pity let out a scream of rage before bringing his gravity throne forward at haste and landing a smack across Vale's face -which did not hurt him in the slightest "_Your insolence has no bounds. And I -_the holy and most noble Prophet of Pity- _has had enough of your persistent defiance!_"

_I will have you executed for this _"I have already sent a message to the holy Prophet of Truth with haste," Vale calmly informed the Prophet of Pity with a few clicks of his mandibles "I asked him for legal permission to retain you if the evidence concludes that you used your power illegally to have Zealot Var killed and his removal from the Great Journey -and the evidence is against you. I know his reply will be in my favor; and once he gives me his holy consent to retain you, I will take you before the council and have you executed for illegal use of your political power."

"_YOU DARE BE SO BLUNT?!_" The Prophet of Pity screamed in rage "_GUARDS! SEIZE HIM!_"

_They won't _Vale snaked his head around to see that the Honor Guards stood firmly still "_SEIZE HIM!_" The Prophet of Pity screamed again _This is a farce worthy of the ages._

Vale shook his head in annoyance before making his way out of the Prophet's quarters with the Prophet of Pity screaming in rage as he left...

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [1934 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Mess-Hall, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>098's head was ringing.<p>

But he felt _strangely _stronger, 098 felt like he was no longer in the boundaries of his physical limitations. His eye sight also felt stronger with him being able to focus better on the distance. 098 guessed these things came from the Forerunner neural interface -the Monitor didn't mention the biological augments the neural interface caused.

098 rubbed his eyes to make his fuzzy vision go away before looking down at his food; potato spuds covered in unique spices and salts from Reach -that he had always loved as a kid-, three strips of turkey covered in breadcrumbs and spices as-well as salt, and lastly, there was the gravy that covered it all.

098 only ever ate big meals before important missions. Of course, then he would have to do the annoying task of taking a gut pill to make sure his bowels were clear for the mission. Any excess waste his body needed to get rid of would be handled by his armor's waste disposal unit -that apparently the Forerunner armor had as-well.

098 cut a spud in half before picking the smaller half up with his fork and putting hit in his mouth.

The taste of gravy, spices, and the potato itself sent his taste-buds into a dance; 098 almost smiled at the flavors.

"Move it." 098 heard a gruff voice say and he looked up to see a large Marine with a ODST insignia on his fatigues, and the insignia of a Staff Sergeant.

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 complied as he grabbed his plate of food and began moving over to another table, but before he could reach it, another ODST bumped into him -another Staff Sergeant- and used his fork to fetch a strip of 098's turkey off of his plate and place it on his already full plate before snickering at 098 and going over to join his comrade on the table 098 was recently seated at.

098 simply ignored the ODSTs and made his way over to another table.

"Sierra!" 098 heard a familiar voice called and turned to see Woods waving him over with a few more ODSTs sitting around the table.

098 nodded and made his way over to the table as he heard one of the ODSTs that hijacked his table yell "Freak" at him.

"Fuckers," Woods muttered as 098 took a seat next to him "They're a disgrace to this." Woods began pointing at his ODST insignia.

098 turned to his right when he noticed that the person sitting to his right was placing a piece of turkey on his plate "Thank you..." 098 looked at his shirt and saw that he wore he insignia of a First Sergeant "...sir."

The ODST First Sergeant did a single nod before going back to his food.

"Always the chivalry one, Freud." Another ODST sitting across from Woods laughed.

The ODST First Sergeant named Freud let out a grunt as he place a piece of cut up turkey into his mouth.

"Oh, yeah," Woods suddenly said as 098 put a potato spud into his mouth "You don't know these guys, do you?"

098 wiped some gravy off of his chin before turning to face Woods _Negative _"Negative, sir." 098 confirmed with a nod.

"Well, sitting next to you is Albert Freud." Woods said with 098 turning to face the ODST. Freud was quite short and pale, and had short black hair and a thin stubble -098 also noticed that he had some grey spots in his hair -which was odd since Freud looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His face was very average for a person of his age -098 guessed that he had plenty of girlfriends in his lifetime, and maybe even a wife- and he also had a scar under his right eye -which 098 couldn't figure out the origins behind. Freud wore basic Marine fatigues but 098 noticed that he had the collar around his neck undone so a Christian cross could be seen -098 guessed he did this so he could have easy access to it without him needing to dig into his shirt to pull it out.

Freud turned to look at 098 and nodded once before turning back around to focus on his food _Verbal topics irrelevant for ODST First Sergeant -designated Albert Freud._

"That over there is Tom McAllister -but me and my boys call him Wolf." Woods gestured to the ODST sitting across from Freud. The ODST had the insignia of a Staff Sergeant, and looked similar to Freud in facial structure and age, but had a darker skin tone and had short brown hair shaved into a mohawk. His face was cleanly shaven but 098 guessed that was so the small tattoos of M7 SMGs on either side of his jaw could be seen. He also had a scar coming away from the corner of his left eye which went up over his forehead. The scar also seemed to pull the upper lid of his eyelid back a bit -098 guessed the scar was caused by a Jackal claw.

"Sup?" McAllister smiled in a friendly way at 098.

098 did a nod in respect as Tom returned the favor.

"That ugly bastard over there is Toless Morgan -but his squad refer to his as Night's Anger." Woods gestured to the ODST sitting across from Woods. 098 saw that Morgan had the insignia of a Second Lieutenant. His face was pretty average for a man of his mid-thirties -which is the age 098 guessed he was- but his nose was crooked which 098 guessed happened when an Elite smashed its fist into his face -there was also scaring along the nose which further strengthened that theory. His hair was cleanly shaven off, but he had a short cut brown goatee around his mouth -098 also thought he saw a scar around his mouth. 098 could also see no visible tattoos on his face, but he did have a list of numbers going around his right eye that 098 couldn't figure out the origins to.

"Sierra." Morgan nodded.

"Lieutenant." 098 saluted after seeing the insignia.

"No need for formalities in the mess," Morgan waved 098 to be at ease "Just call me Morgan."

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 nodded as another ODST with the insignia of a First Lieutenant on his shirt came over and took a seat next to Morgan.

"That there is Rick Cylus -his comrades call him Night's Wing." Woods gestured to the newly seated ODST. Cylus had a strong, handsome face, and 098 couldn't imagine that he wasn't married. He had finely trimmed hair and a thin rough beard covering his jawline. He had a thin mouth and sharp eyes and 098 noticed that one of his eyes was cybernetic. His face was full of scars, but the worse was a scar going across his jawline that had burn scars coming away from it; an energy sword was 098's first and only guess. Unlike the rest of the ODSTs, Cylus wore a singlet instead of a T-shirt, and 098 could see dozens of standard Marine and ODST tattoos covering his arms. 098 also noticed that he wore a black finger-less leather glove on his left hand which 098 guessed was for more than just petty appearance.

"Pleasure to meet you, SPARTAN," Cylus happily stated as he tossed 098 a can of soda "Shit's good."

_Affirmative. _"Affirmative," 098 nodded "Thank you."

"Morgan and Cylus are from Fireteam Night -the lead Fireteam aboard the _Kryptonite_. But McAllister and Freud are from my Fireteam."

_"My Fireteam" Requires elaboration _"Elaborate the term: 'My Fireteam'." 098 said as he opened up the can of soda.

"Oh, that's right," Woods let out a nervous chuckle in his Slavic accent "I was promoted to Sergeant Major after the mission back on _Quaint_," Woods let out a sigh "Something I don't _really_ deserve."

_Elaborate required _"Elaboration required." 098 told Woods.

"_Really_?" Woods questioned 098 in a puzzled tone _Affirmative _"I _got them_ _killed_! I agreed one hundred percent with Captain Royce that you SPARTANs were _psychos_ over what happened on the _fucking Atlas_, and I proceeded to be a pain in the arse during the _entire mission_... There's no denying the simple fact that my damn yelling and stupidity got Vintage killed... and almost got _you_ killed..."

098 noticed that Woods was now staring plainly into his food, not doing anything but breathing heavily _Possibility of PTSD: certain. Possibility of survivor guilt: certain._

"You're right," Freud suddenly said "Your comrades died because of you," Woods looked up and began facing Freud, obviously taken aback by what he said "But you fail to see that -although unintentionally- your 'stupidity' and 'foolishness' has possibly saved Humanity."

_Affirmative. _Woods narrowed his eyes at Freud who was putting some turkey into his mouth, not even noticing everyone's eyes on him "But like you said 'unintentionally'..." Woods reminded Freud, 098 noticed tears were forming in Wood's eyes "ODSTs... _are not the best of the fucking best_; you didn't see any of us taking that Elite down... we were simply... _back there_... shooting at it while you willingly took the Elite out in a way that would kill you _as-well_, _without hesitation_... I'm sorry... _Sierra_." tears were now flooding out of Wood's eyes and McAllister hurried over to comfort his comrade.

_Irrelevant. Mission accomplished. Team status irrelevant _"And don't say that '_the past is irrelevant'_," Woods told 098 "They matter _to me_!."

"_Fucking crying pussy!_" 098 heard the ODST that told him to move earlier yell out to them from his table "Call yourself _ODSTs_? _ODSTs don't cry like little bitches!_"

Freud slammed his fist down onto the table before getting up and slowly making his way over to the other ODST's table.

"Shit," McAllister calmly said as he from comforting Woods "he forgets certain things that are vital for his survival sometimes." McAllister than began to hurry after Freud as 098 and Woods turned to see what was happening.

098 watched as Freud slammed his fist into the face of the ODST that told 098 to move as he tried to get out of his seat "Damn." Woods sniffed as he began to wipe his eyes with his arm.

McAllister grabbed the ODST that stole 098's turkey before he could ambush Freud and bought his face down to his knee.

_Possibility of eventual intervention of physical combat: certain _098 continued to wait as a group of people gather around the fighting ODSTs; some pushed their way through the crowd and began to attack McAllister and Freud while others tried to break the fight up.

Freud pushed a Marine that was trying to break the fight up out-of-the-way as he began to slam the ODST that told 098 to move's face down onto the table before spinning the ODST around and began choking the him.

_Immediate intervention required_. 098 hurried out of his seat and ran over to Freud where he pushed Freud off of the struggling ODST and held him against the wall.

"Let... _me_..." Freud struggled to release himself from 098's grip.

_Stand down _"Stand down, sir." 098 told Freud.

"_Fuck_," The ODST that Freud was choking coughed as he got up "Move, freak," The ODST tried to grab Freud through 098's grip "_he's mine_."

098 turned to face the ODST _Stand down _"Stand down, sir." 098 told the ODST.

"I'm ordering you to _LET ME FUCK HIS FACE UP!_" The ODST roared in 098's face.

_Order refusal allowed, and is mandatory _"Order refusal allowed," 098 replied as he lightly pushed the ODST away "Stand down."

098 watched as a CO came over and pulled three ODSTs off of McAllister before he began yelling at them; the crowd also began to break up.

"I said_ MOVE!_" The ODST yelled as he landed a punch on 098's face.

_Physical contact -engage _098 quickly released Freud and swung his arm around and slammed it into the ODST's face, sending him flying back as blood and teeth splattered from his mouth; he landed on the hard floor with a crack.

_Possibility of unintentional elimination: high _The ODSTs squad-mates, a few COs, and some other crew members in the mess ran over to the ODST. 098 simply moved out-of-the-way with McAllister and Freud rallying on him as Morgan, Cylus, and Woods came running into the crowd of people who had just formed a circle around the area.

"I think you killed him." McAllister observed with a chuckle that had no amusement in it -it was just there.

098 watched as a CO checked the ODST's vitals with Cylus, Morgan, and Woods making their way through the crowd and over to 098, McAllister, and Freud's position.

"He's alive," A CO announced as he waved for another CO to go and get the medics "He's skull is cracked though. So _nice going Sierra._"

Freud was about to walk towards the CO when Morgan stopped him by grabbing his shoulder "I know who is worth harming your precious knuckles over," Morgan stated to Freud as he looked him in the eyes "And these _fucking cunts_ aren't worth _shit_ -fools that the Covenant decided not to kill."

"The Covenant decided to kill the good guys instead." Cylus said without emotion -and seemingly to no-one.

098 raised his head from the unconscious ODST to one of the entrances to the mess as he spotted the Captain along with some other COs make their way into the mess; the Captain was clutching the side of her cheek -the same side 098 was hit in "What happened?" She asked as she and the other COs came to a stop around the unconscious marine.

"Sierra _pretty much_ put this ODST out of service." One of the COs explained.

_Allow me to elaborate _"Allow me to elaborate-"

"Nobody asked you to elaborate," The CO that was bent over the ODST's unconscious body interrupted 098 "Just go back to standing there like the machine you and your kind are."

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 complied and was taken aback when he witnessed the Captain lift her leg up and kick the CO in the face.

"Shut your fucking cunt sucker!" The Captain snapped at the CO.

098 thought he heard the Captain continue to yell at the CO... but he tuned out all of a sudden... something was wrong.

_LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!_ 098 began rubbing his head as McAllister looked at him with a worried look on his face _I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH MY SISTER, YOU BULLY!_

098 began rubbing his head harder as the rest of the ODSTs near him began looking at him with confused and puzzled looks on their faces _I'll always protect you..._

"That's not right..." 098 mused as he began hitting his head with the palm of his hand, everyone began looking at him "...That's not... right..."

"Are you okay?" Cylus asked him in a worried tone.

_Are you okay, Nai? Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you again; he's just a big bully._

Just like in the medical bay, something 098 buried a long time ago momentarily dug itself back into his mind. And for a moment, 098 had a thought he buried a long time ago...

_I'm going to kill her..._

* * *

><p><strong><span>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<span>**

An update on the OCs.

Albert Freud - Starart123  
>Tom McAllister - Curiouswolf.<br>Qrs 'Jaragsai - Qrs-jg.  
>Brian Davis - briandang161.<br>16807 Fleighted Fire - Fleightfire

Minor appearances so far, but then, this isn't anywhere near the end.


	18. Third Act of Inconvenience

_Death and chaos was everywhere to be seen._

_Hundreds of civilians were running up the large metropolis street surrounded by skyscrapers as dozens of Covenant vehicle, air, and ground forces marched up the street, killing any Human in their path._

_I ran past the fleeing civilians and took cover behind some debris as the Elite Major and its squad I was shooting at began to close in on me._

_I took a breath and leaned out of cover, raised my gun, and fired with one three round burst from the BR55 BR -I took from a dead Marine earlier- which finished the Elite Major off with the Grunts around it beginning to enter a panic._

_I quickly cut down the fleeing Grunts with my BR as two friendly SPARTANs appeared on my motion sensor._

_Red didn't even bother taking cover, and instead leaped over the debris I was behind and charge towards a wrecked car that a Jackal was hiding behind._

_"You never leave any for me." Jorge huffed in annoyance as he joined me behind cover._

_I smiled behind my helmet as I leaned out of cover and took out a Jackal in an advancing Covenant lance "Maybe if you weren't so slow," I said as I took a Grunt Ultra next to the Jackal I just killed out "you might actually get to kill something."_

_Red took cover behind the wrecked car that the -now dead- Jackal was originally behind, and began opening fire at the advancing Covenant._

_A fleeing civilian tripped next to our cover and I quickly helped him up._

_"Thank you." He said as he hurried towards the advancing UNSC forces._

_"Shit's about to go down." I remarked as I saw the large UNSC convoy close in on our position with Scorpions beginning to shoot at Covenant aerial forces in the distance._

_I quickly turned back around and began covering civilians who were still fleeing from the approaching Covenant lines._

_One civilian teenager wasn't so lucky as to have been covered by me, and a Jackal Major leaped on him before using its claws to slit his throat._

_"Damn it." I muttered as I shifted my fire and killed the Jackal as what I assume was the mother of the teenager slumped down next to the teenager's body and began crying._

_I tried to cover the women against advancing Grunts, but I the women wouldn't move, and an advancing Elite Major -whose shields I couldn't bring down in time- raised its plasma rifle to the crying women's head, and fired, spilling red blood and brain over the dirt road as the women's head began to melt from the plasma._

_Red began firing at the Elite Major as-well, and with his help, I managed to bring the Major's shields down before a three round burst from Red's BR split the Major's head and helmet open with purple blood spraying over the road._

_As I shifted my fire to the now fleeing Grunts of the Major's lance, I noticed on my HUD that three SPARTANs were approaching from behind us._

_I took down two Grunt Minors as Charlie-Green Team -consisting of Carris-137, Naomi-010, and Joseph-122- took cover near us, further strengthening our defensive perimeter against the Covenant until the approaching UNSC convoy reached us._

_"Linda and the rest of Green Team are back with the convoy," Joseph reported as I assisted him in taking down an Elite Minor "Linda's already in a sniping position and should begin-"_

_A shot rang out and an Elite Ultra lost its head with the Grunts of its lance entering a panic._

_I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that with backup we might be able to get all the civilians that were still fleeing to safety. My hopes, however, were smashed when I saw a Jackal Minor rip a newborn baby from a mother's arms, held the screaming and crying baby by its legs, and bought the baby closer to its mouth before biting the baby's head off as the mother screamed in horror._

_I let out a grunt of annoyance as I took the Jackal out with a mist of purple blood appearing where its head once was. I then began covering the crying mother as she ignored the body of her baby, and ran as fast as she could for the safety of our defensive perimeter. But she couldn't run fast enough, and a plasma round from an Elite Ultra's plasma repeater slammed into the back of her head, melting off half of her head as she fell to the ground -dead._

_I shifted my fire from covering the dead mother and assisted in taking down a Covenant lance; I suddenly noticed that my motion sensor was covered in yellow dots._

_The sounds of vehicles and Marines shouting orders to their squads filled my ears as the rest of Green Team and a large amount of Marines took cover near us, and began cutting down the advancing Covenant forces._

_With the extra guns, the Covenant began to fall by the numbers as bullets upon bullets hit them head on, and the Scorpions and Warthogs began firing into the lines as-well once all the civilians were safe._

_I smiled behind my helmet as the Covenant began to retreat to cover, leaving behind dozens of their comrades corpses and -to my horror- hundreds of civilian corpses scattered along the road._

_"Move to engage hostile Covenant forces." Red said over our Teams COM with us leaping out of cover in comply._

_"Nice work Sierras." I heard a Marine behind us say as we slowly went after the retreating Covenant._

_"Yeah," I heard another Marine agreed "you saved a lot of lives."_

_Jorge chuckled over the COM._

_I simply smiled..._

_Me and my SPARTAN family were heroes..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2128 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard UNSC ****_Kryptonite _****Dropship-77-Troop Carrier: Charlie-40, Approaching Sentinel Wall Around Library, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>Red was comforted by the loud sounds of the Pelican's roaring engines... in reassured him that nothing was wrong...<p>

Something was wrong, though... He felt... odd... Ever since he came into contact with the Captain of the UNSC Kryptonite,he had been not functioning to his full potential. Red, of course, knew why. She was his twin sister... they felt what each other was feeling... And they could feel each other's mental state.

And 098 was feeling oddly grim lately; he had the feeling of wanting to cry -which he couldn't despite his body wanting the contrary.

_I'll always protect you... _098 quickly shook his head to get the odd feeling out of his head.

"Are you functioning well, Reclaimer?" Fleighted Fire asked over the suit's COM.

Fleighted Fire must had picked up on his mental state of mine via the Forerunner neural interface _Negative _"Negative." 098 replied indifferently as he turned his head to look out of the Pelican's blood-tray, watching as the landscape went by.

"Can you operate this priority task, Reclaimer?" Fleighted Fire questioned him, its voice low and concerned tone.

_Affirmative. _"Affirmative." 098 replied.

"You're sure?" Timmy asked over the COM.

Lighter Than Some was a fast worker; it managed to make the Forerunner neural interface able to connect to Human COM channels in a matter of minutes; 098 reckoned that Lighter may win the war if they get it back to ONI, and couldn't reach an agreement with the Elites.

_Affirmative. _"Affirmative." 098 replied.

"I guess it's too late to late to stop the mission anyway." Timmy stated.

_Affirmative. _"Absolutely," Fleighted Fire replied before 098 could "I have tasked the Sentinels and Enforcers located at the quarantine zone to provide the designated Reclaimer with a single window of opportunity. Anymore will be unacceptable; we must enact on this task immediately."

"Relax, Fire," The Captain broke in over the COM in an annoyed tone -one that she seemed to use a lot. _Protect you_ "Sierra already said that he's fine."

"Forgive me, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied "but the designated Reclaimer's status is a mandatory priority -any potential for the designated Reclaimer to be mentally unfit for this priority task is a situation I must invest myself in."

"Well, _he's fine _so you don't need to bother anymore." The Captain told Fleighted Fire over the COM.

"Of course, Reclaimer." Fleighted Fire replied.

_I'll always protect you. _098 shook his head again as he got up and walked to the edge of the Pelican's blood-tray before grabbing the Z-250 Directed Energy Engagement Weapon on his back and watched as it assembled in his hand.

098 was sure to be properly armed for this mission. And luckily, the gravitational field coming off the back of the armor allowed him to have multiple Forerunner weapons floating on his back.

On the back of 098's armor, he had a Z-250 Directed Energy Engagement Weapon -or lightrifle- which he would use for long-range engagements, a Z-130 Directed Energy Automatic Weapon -or suppressor- which 098 would use for mid to close range combat, and a Z-180 Close Combat Rifle -or scattershot- which 098 would use for close-range combat.

Even though there were three weapons floating off of 098's back, they were mostly dissembled -making the weapons fit better- This allowed 098 to have other weapons as-well. Of course, the armor had no MWHS, so 098 had to have some leather tied to the weapons instead. Now, other than the Forerunner weapons, 098 had a Type-51 Directed Energy Rifle -or plasma repeater- that 098 would use for close to mid range combat, a Type-50 Directed Energy Rifle -or concussion rifle- that 098 would use for mid to long-range combat, and a Type-51 Carbine -or Covenant carbine- which 098 would use for long-range combat.

Thankfully, there was room around his armored thighs to equip some weapon belts. So 098 also had a Type-25 Directed Energy Rifle -or plasma rifle- which he would use for close to mid range combat holstered in a makeshift holster on his left high, and a Type-1 Energy Sword that 098 would use for close combat holstered in another makeshift holster on his right.

098 had a hard time getting the energy sword. But Fleighted Fire stated it would be very effective against the Flood -098 saw firsthand how effective it was. So after some convincing, Anve finally gave up his energy sword for 098's usage.

098 also had plenty of ammo for the Covenant weapons that required ammo, and plenty of Covenant, Forerunner, and UNSC grenades on his grenade belt and in two satchels on either side of his hip.

Strangely enough, all the weapons and equipment didn't make the armor feel any heavier.

Now, if all the weapons, grenades, and equipment weren't enough, 098 also had about 300 Sentinels and 40 Enforcers backing him up.

"30 secs." The familiar voice of Tuscany Clad announced over the COM channel.

_Acknowledged. _"Acknowledged." 098 replied over the COM just as he saw at least three dozen Sentinels come into view from the blood-tray -obviously Sentinels sent to assist 098.

"Shit." 098 heard Amber Wong mutter over the COM.

_Status elaboration required. _"Status?" 098 asked.

"You ain't gonna believe what we're seeing, Sierra." Wong explained.

"There's no way in hell we're landing this bird." Clad added.

"This ship will not be required to land, Reclaimers," Fleighted Fire broke in over the COM "for the impact stabilizer layer and gravitational field functioning within the class twelve combat skin that the designated Reclaimer is wearing will allow the designated Reclaimer to free-fall down into the designated entry zone to the Sentinel wall."

"He _is not _jumping out of that Pelican." The Captain quickly interjected.

"It is a required mandatory objective for the successful completion of this priority task," Fleighted Fire countered "The designated Reclaimer's survival chances are 100 percent; it is against protocol for me to assist in the harming or potential harming of a Reclaimer -unless protocol dictates to the contrary."

"Ma'am, orders?" Clad asked over the Pelican as it came to a stop.

098 heard the Captain sigh over the COM channel _I'll always protect you. _"If he dies, Fire-"

"Relax, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire interrupted the Captain "The designated Reclaimer's survival of this mandatory objective of this priority task is my up-most concern. The designated Reclaimer's termination is not inevitable."

"I take that as a yes." Clad said as the Pelican began to turn, and 098 finally saw the Library and Sentinel wall... and the Flood.

The Library was huge, and looked like a reactor with arches surrounding the top of the Library where a glowing light shot up into the dark, cloudy sky.

The Library was rested over a river -the river must have ran under the Library- and there were tropical mountains surrounding the Library in every direction. But running along the mountains was the giant Sentinel wall that surrounded the Library for miles -effectively blocking the Library off from the rest of Halo.

Coming up from the Sentinel walls was the containment field. And 098 looked down to see the main entrance to the quarantine zone had hundred of Sentinels, Enforcers, and Forerunner turrets shooting at something that wasn't visible -obviously the Flood- through the tunnel that served as the entrance.

The perimeter that the Sentinels and Enforcers had set up was full of barricades and fortifications that faced the entrance tunnel to the Sentinel wall.

098 looked up and saw that a lot of distance was to be covered from the Sentinel wall to the Library itself. And in between that distance, 098 saw a large hive covering the entire quarantine zone.

098 had to go in there.

"Reclaimer, jump when you're ready." Fleighted Fire told him over the COM.

_Affirmative. _098 looked around to examine what he would do, when he suddenly saw hundreds of small Flood forms -that Fleighted Fire and the Monarch referred to as "Infection Forms"- pouring out of the tunnel and into the line of fired from the Forerunner turrets, Sentinels. and Enforcers.

The Sentinels and Enforcers that were to assist 098 broke off and went down to assist in eliminating the Infection Forms. They weren't fast enough, though, as at least four Infection Forms made it past the perimeter and rushed off into the jungles.

_Possibility of future contact with designated Flood Infection Forms: high. _Fleighted Fire -who saw everything 098 saw through a live feed in his helmet- must had seen that 098 was watching the fleeing Infection Forms, and spoke up "All Flood forms that escape from the quarantine zone will be marked via a satellite above this area, and effectively tracked down and terminated."

098 looked up and saw the Forerunner satellite before looking back down to the entrance.

098 slung his lightrifle over his back and drew his Covenant carbine. _Approximately 14 seconds to traverse from D-77-TC to POE of quarantine zone. Possibility of survival: uncertain. Forerunner A.I -designated "Fleighted Fire" reassures of probable survival. Beginning free-fall jump in 5...4...3...2...1... _098 stepped off of the blood-tray's edge.

"Good luck, Sierra." Wong said over the COM as the night air whooshed past 098 while he fell at full speed to the ground.

_Contact with with ground near POE in 3...2...1... _098 slammed into the ground -not staggering a bit- and hurried behind a Forerunner barricade.

_Engaging. _098 leaned out of cover and shot a radioactive projectile into an Infection Form -which blew the Infection Form into a pile of yellow mist and goo.

_Ineffective against Infection Forms. _098 realized that the Covenant carbine wouldn't work against a swarm of Infection Forms, and quickly went back into cover.

"Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire said over the COM "engaging the Infection Forms in ranged combat is ineffective and irrelevant. I recommend that you simply charge past them. The hardlight shield around the combat skin will protect you from damage. And the tasked Sentinels will be tasked to reinforce the combat skin's hardlight shields at your request. I will also inform you that a large amount of static electricity surrounds the combat skin, so any Infection Form that comes into physical contact with the combat skin will be immediately terminated. This will work with the Combat Forms as-well, but it is somewhat limited and will not do as much damage to the Combat Form -since it is similar to a combat skin for the Infection Forms."

"You failed to mention this earlier." The Captain stated in an annoyed tone over the COM.

"You never gave me the chance, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire countered "You proceeded to question me as to how the designated Reclaimer gets into the combat skin before I could reach the designated topic."

098 let out an annoyed grunt at the arguing "Irrelevant," He broke in "I need elaboration on how to make the Sentinels reinforce my hardlight shields."

"Simply tell them, Reclaimer." Fleighted Fire replied.

_Affirmative _"Reinforce my hardlight shields." 098 said aloud.

Immediately, all the Sentinels that were assigned to him rallied to him with at least 40 of the 300 Sentinels beginning to project a beam towards him.

With his shields reinforced, 098 leaped out of cover and ran at full speed towards the tunnel.

_Current velocity exceeds theory. Velocity equals approx 2 times the velocity allowed in MJOLNIR Mark IV. Possibility of potential hazard at current velocity: average to high. _098 didn't have time to properly test the armor out. So he was surprised when he figured out that he was currently running at 68.1 mph -a feat that was considered hazardous while wearing the MJOLNIR Mark IV.

As 098 ran through the wide tunnel, Infection Forms clung onto his armored leg only to explode into a yellow mist a millisecond later, Sentinels blasted apart surrounding Combat Forms -made up from various different animals across the ring- and Carrier Forms exploded to have dozens of Infection Forms blast everywhere.

The tunnel was large and -from the Fleighted Fire stated- went straight through the Sentinel wall until it reached the gondola that would take 098, the Sentinels, and the Enforcers across the apparent split between the Sentinel wall that split the wall in half with the quarantine zone on the far side.

There were various tunnels that split off from the main tunnel that 098 was running through, which must had led deeper into the Sentinel wall. There were also smaller hatches higher up on the walls that had Sentinels coming out of them who immediately began attacking the seemly endless Flood counter attack.

The different tunnels were irrelevant; 098 saw where he needed to go and he wasn't going to stop until he got there.

A Combat Form -made up from a large deer like creature that the Diverted Elites hunted for food that they called "Zarrifs"- latched onto 098's back as he ran. And without wasting time to stop, he leaped up into the air and turned his body so that the Combat Form was facing the Sentinels that were desperately attempting to get it off. And as 098 planned, the Sentinels carefully attacked the Combat Form with their lasers, and 098 landed his feet back onto the ground before running at full speed forward -leaving the now dead Combat Form to be melted down.

Two more Combat Forms -resembling a Zarrif and a Guta like predator that hunted Zarrifs that the Elites called "Yulanxs"- appeared out of nowhere. _Gun combat initiated -engage._ 098 halted and slung his Covenant carbine over his back before grabbing his scattershot, waited for it to assemble in his hands, then shot at the Zarrif Combat Form with all but two ionized particle missing it. And the two particles that did manage to hit it made it stop charging 098 as it began to disintegrate.

098 quickly shifted his aim to the Yulanx Combat Form, but it quickly dodged to the right, out-of-the-way of 098's aim before bringing its large arms in and smashing them across 098's chest, sending him flying back a few feet and hitting the ground with the impact making 098 let go of his scattershot.

"Sierra?" The Captain grunted, and 098 noticed that his energy shields were disrupted.

Luckily, before the Combat Form could get attack 098, about a dozen Sentinel laser beams took it in the chest -effectively melting it as it let out a screech of anger.

"Status: green, ma'am." 098 reassured the Captain and wasted no time in immediately getting up and grabbing his scattershot before breaking into a sprint again.

More Combat and Infection Forms came out from tunnels leading deeper into the Sentinel wall. And, thankfully, this time the Sentinels and Enforcers quickly eliminated them before they could engage 098 "I have re-tasked the tasked Sentinels and Enforcers, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire informed him "so you should no longer be ambushed by Flood forces."

_Acknowledged _"Acknowledged." 098 replied as the exit to the tunnel began to get larger and larger until 098 could see the large gondola. He could also see a large Flood defensive perimeter blocking his way. And without a second thought, 098 slung his scattershot over his back and pulled the suppressor out and waited for it to assemble in his hands before he raised it and fired at the Flood wall -all the while sprinting at 67.4 mph.

The light mass rounds from the suppressor hit various Combat Forms, and the Combat Forms staggered as the rounds pierced their mushy flesh. But it wouldn't be enough. _Light mass round effective. But ineffective at current engagement. Z-180 Close Combat Rifle mandatory current engagement._ With the plan figured out, 098 slung the suppressor over his back where he heard it disassemble before he pulled the scattershot off of his back and waited for it to assemble in his hands. And by the time it was assembled, he was but moments from running into the Flood defensive wall.

Smashing into the Flood, 098 raised his scattershot to the face of a Combat Form -made out of a feline like predator that the Elites decided to call "Hellets"- and shot it in the face, effectively disintegrating it as 098 slammed into another Combat Form.

Electricity zapped across his armor, and the Combat Form jumped back with electricity running through it. 098 took this chance to eliminated it with a shot to what remained of its face before he turned around and began shooting at the dozens of Combat Forms that were leaping towards him.

Thankfully, the scattershot's ionized particles managed to hit each Combat Form, and they immediately began to disintegrate as the Sentinels assisted him. But a single Combat Form managed to survive the ionized particle rounds, and the scattershot needed to be reloaded. Luckily, before it could leap on 098 and caused him annoyance, a Sentinel beam shot through its chest -where the Infection Form was thankfully located- and immediately killed it as the other Sentinels began to melt the body down.

098 reloaded his scattershot and noticed that the Enforcers were finally catching up to his and the Sentinel's position; they were slower than 098 and the Sentinels, so it would take them longer to traverse the tunnel.

The final round was fed into the scattershot, and 098 spun around to find that the platform that the gondola was connected up to seemed clear; it was likely that the entire Flood counter attack was just wiped out.

"That was highly unusual," Fleighted Fire mused over the COM "the Flood don't engage in such strategic and coordinated combat until they reach the Coordinated Stage -which is impossible; no Gravemind has currently been detected throughout this Installation."

With the area clear, 098 ignored what Fleighted Fire said -assuming it was just it thinking aloud to itself- and hurried forward -confident that the Sentinels and Enforcers would attack any Flood Forms that attempted to ambush him- and arrived at the console controls for the gondola "Inform me of the start-up procedures." 098 told Fleighted Fire over his COM channel before he got ready to press what holographic buttons Fleighted Fire told him to; the sounds of Sentinels and Enforcers rallying behind him filled his helmet.

"It's the large button to the right, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire informed him "It's always the large button."

_Acknowledged _"Acknowledged." 098 grunted in annoyance as he pressed the "large button" with the gondola rumbling to life.

"Might I recommend you use your Z-250 Directed Energy Engagement Weapon for ranged engagement, Reclaimer. I am detecting additional Flood forces awaiting your arrival at the platform the designated gondola is on-route to."

_Acknowledged _"Acknowledged." 098 slung his scattershot over his back to hear it dissemble before he pulled his lightrifle from his back and watched as it assembled in his hands.

"Sierra," The Captain broke in over the COM "is everything going according to plan?"

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 replied before raising the lightrifle towards the platform to see Flood Combat, Infection, and Carrier Forms awaiting his arrival. And 098 began to fire at them with the Sentinels and Enforcers going over to eliminate them as-well.

"Good- good," The Captain replied over the COM in a worried tone as 098 eliminated a Combat Form. _I will always protect you, Nai... Irrelevant. Mission success priority one_ "Hey, We still need to talk talk. How about when you get back, _okay_?"

_Negative. Engaging in verbal elaboration of classified Intel restricted _"Negative." 098 replied as he eliminated another Combat Form only to have an Infection Form enter the corpse and bring it back to life.

_Let me out. _The Captain let out a sigh "I _will _order you to-"

"SHUT UP." 098 roared over the COM, dropping his lightrifle as he began to hold his armored hands to his helmet _Let me out! You can't keep me buried forever! I'm not a machine!_

"Don't _speak to me _like that." The Captain coldly and aggressively told 098.

_MPD confirmed. Effectiveness in current to future missions and operations lowered to zero percent. Mission abort essential. _"Abort mission, ma'am." 098 said as his vision began to go fuzzy. _You were created out of hatred and spite... You're weak..._

"What?!" The Captain exclaimed.

_Allow me to elaborate. _"Effectiveness in current mission lowered to zero percent. Mission abort essential to my survival." 098 explained as he steadied himself on a wall on the gondola. He could hear the Sentinels and Enforcers on the gondola open fire which must had meant that the gondola was closing in on the platform.

"Fire, get him out of there." The Captain ordered Fleighted Fire in an alarmed and worried tone, obviously feeling 098's confused mental state of mind. _I want to hold her... I want to tell her I love her... _

"The designated Reclaimer must wait until the anti-gravity gondola reaches its designated location; it cannot go back until it's docked. Once the gondola is docked, the designated Reclaimer may proceed to initiate the anti-gravity gondola's start up procedures to exit the quarantine zone." Fleighted Fire explained.

"_What the?_" The Captain said in confusion over the COM "Red, what's... _happening_?"

_Negative on requested elaboration _"Negative on requested elaboration." 098 replied as he stumbled to the gondola's ground.

"The designated Reclaimer is in an alarming amount of danger," Fleighted Fire warned the Captain "The designated Reclaimer's vitals and mental statistics are alarmingly out of control!"

"_Just_ _Get him to ride a damn Enforcer out of there._" The Captain coldly and quietly ordered Fleighted Fire as 098 grabbed a pillar and pulled himself blindly to his feet.

"Of course, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire complied "Reclaimer, please approach the designated Enforcer I have marked on the class twelve combat skin's helmet navigation display."

_Negative. Cannot initiate in designated objective _"Negative. Cannot initiate in designated objective . Eyesight function 10 percent." 098 explained as he began to hear the Sentinels and Enforcers surrounding the gondola begin to attack the Flood on the opposite platform; the gondola was getting close.

"Reclaimer, stand up straight, then hold out your left arm," Fleighted Fire told him "The Enforcer I have tasked with assisting you should then be able to grab your arm to assist you."

_Affirmative _"Affirmative." 098 did so and felt one of the Enforcer's arms grab his arm, and he quickly brought his other arm around to grab the Enforcer's arm in order to pull himself up.

"_Your escape from your demise is not permitted, food._" 098 heard a deep voice boom through his internal speakers.

"What's that?" The Captain asked over the COM.

"I have failed containment protocol, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied in a very dreary tone "The Flood have formed a Gravemind."

If everything 098 had heard from the Monarch about Flood Graveminds was correct, then everyone on Halo was in serious danger.

"_Get him out of there_ _NOW!_" The Captain ordered Fleighted Fire with the Enforcer beginning to rise in compliance. But before it could even leave the area of the gondola, 098 heard an electricity static sound boom out, and he suddenly felt the Enforcer drop back onto the gondola. And as soon as the Enforcer hit the gondola, the impact threw 098 off of it and to the gondola's floors.

"This is disastrous!" Fleighted Fire exclaimed "The Gravemind has integrated itself with Forerunner machinery and appliances! It has control over multiple weapon systems -including a harmful electromagnetic pulse output device!"

"_WHY DIDN'T YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS?!_" The Captain roared in rage over the COM.

"Reclaimer, you must understand: the satellites I have stationed and tasked above the quarantine zone cannot give me any visual on what the Flood have developed inside the Library itself." Fleighted Fire explained.

"_Get Sierra out of there!_" The Captain ordered Fleighted Fire in a cold voice.

"I cannot assist the designated Reclaimer any further," Fleighted Fire stated "all Enforcers and Sentinels within the quarantine zone have been deactivated until further notice. And reinforcements will not only prove ineffective in assisting the designated Reclaimer, they will not even arrive within the time scale to save the designated Reclaimer."

The Captain let out a cry on annoyance, frustration, and anger. _Let me tell her I love her before I die! Damn you, Halsey! _"Red..."

098 felt some smash into his back, and he went flying a few feet before hitting the gondola's hard ground.

"Reclaimer!" Fleighted Fire exclaimed "Stand up straight, wait for five seconds, then physically engage a Flood Combat Form at with your right arm at 220 degrees."

_Acknowledged _"Acknowledged." 098 replied. Even though he could hardly see, he knew maths well enough to work out his angle and the angle he had to attack in.

When the five seconds were up, 098 snapped his right arm around in the direction, and felt his armored arm smash into the body of a Combat Form. And now knowing where the Combat Form was, 098 wasted no time in landing three more punches before he heard the Combat Form roar in anger as his punch must had hit the Infection Form lodged in its chest.

Before 098 could recover from punching the Combat Form, he began to hear loud and heavy rumbling that shook him.

"Oh my..." Fleighted Fire quietly remarked "This is just a theory that has potential... but I believe the Flood mean to capture the designated Reclaimer."

The Captain let out a sigh, the rumbling was getting heavier "How do you know this?"

"It's simple, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire began to explain "The Flood could not possibly remove the designated Reclaimer to the Library without a considerable amount of casualties. So to resolve this, the Gravemind decided to take a high risk, and move closer to the designated Reclaimer; I shall send images of the Gravemind moving to your personal console."

The rumbling was increasing "Reclaimer!" Fleighted Fire exclaimed "270 degrees, left arm! -engage now!"

098 quickly snapped his left arm around and connected it with a Combat Form before he began laying more and more punches into it, smashing it apart with what 098 assumed was yellow gore splashing over his armor -he didn't need to see it to know it was there.

The Combat Form eventually let out a dying roar, and 098 quickly recovered him just as a heavy rumble made him stumble to the ground.

"Fire," The Captain said over the COM in a voice that sounded like she was about to break down into tears "What will _it _do you him?"

"Upon calculated and collected data on the Gravemind's operational capacity: It will no doubt torture the designated Reclaimer for information. I then believe it would have an Infection Form take control of the designated Reclaimer. first it will attack the designated Reclaimer's nervous system via the designated Reclaim-"

"I don't need the details!" The Captain snapped "I just need to know _if it will hurt_?"

"Most certainly, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire confirmed "And it is most likely that the designated Reclaimer -due to his advance mental and physical statistics- will not die from the initial attack -leaving the designated Reclaimer aware of what is happening as-well as in unimaginable pain."

098 heard the Captain sniffle over the COM "Sier- Red... terminate yourself -_that's an order_."

_Affirmative_ "Affirmative." 098 complied with Wong exclaiming over the COM channel at the same time"_What?! _You _can't be serious, Captain?_"

"I can't let delicate Intel fall into the hands of the Flood... and Red is my fraternal twin brother; we can feel what each other feels." The Captain explained as 098 removed his helmet and deactivated his shields.

"Wait, Reclaimer!" Fleighted Fire exclaimed, but it was too late.

"_Fool_" The voice said right before 098 felt something snap into the back of his head. Pain washed over his body as he felt something tear into his head and neck.

The last thing 098 heard was the pained screamed of his sister...


	19. A State of Anarcy

_To thine own eyes: Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee._

_Worthy and most noble Fleet-Master._

_I have received word of the heretical Oracle activating a device of great Heresy on the sacred ring.  
>With the council's feet being unable to feel the warmth of Halo's divine soil, I have concluded that until this grand device of heresy is destroyed, High Charity will remain in the safety of Covenant space.<em>

_I know that you will have this task completed soon. And once you have, inform me immediately.  
>This sacred ring's discovery is still a secret to the Covenant. And the urges to spring this blessed surprise is taking hold of me.<br>I plead that High Charity can soon begin its traversal to this holy ring so we may start the Greta Journey_

_I have Also reviewed your request to apprehend the holy Prophet of Pity if evidence concludes that he had Zealot Var 'Lultamee murdered by using his holy political powers illegally.  
>Upon a great amount of consideration, I have concluded that forcefully apprehending the holy Prophet of Pity for these crimes is impossible.<br>Even if either of us do not wish to believe it, the holy Prophet of Pity is an asset to the high council and the Covenant as a whole.  
>And a bigger revelation dawns on this topic.<em>

_Once this sacred ring's discovery is revealed to the Covenant, they will worship the holy Prophet of Pity's feet as much as yours.  
>It would be a devastation for the Covenant to find out that such a hero is involved in such scandal.<em>

_With this conclusion, I hereby forbid any mention of the holy Prophet of Pity having murdering Zealot Var 'Lultamee, under the punishment of execution and removal from the Great Journey._

_But do not believe for a second that the Prophet of Pity shall escape punishment. But what punishment there is, will be done quietly by me, the high Prophet of Mercy, and the high Prophet of Regret._

_I bid you safe tidings. And I ask that you act within my orders accordingly._

_By my own hands: High Prophet of Truth._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2159 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee's Quarters, The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>Vale slid the holographic message away from his consoles screen with a flick of his hand, and proceeded to chuckle to himself "So, that is how it is."<p>

Vale was not surprised by the Prophet of Truths' response. In face, he had expected it, he had wanted it. And that was for a simple reason: Vale knew that the Prophet of Pity was not stupid enough to just have Var murdered over such a minor thing -more so after Vale made such a threat. And Vale knew the instant that Var went missing that the Prophet of Pity was behind it. And that he acted out of orders -not blind stupidity.

The Prophets were hiding something...

Vale wasted no more time, and opened a private transmission to Qrs 'Jaragsai.

The Prophets must had not known of Vales' cunning and intelligence. He sent his most trusted soldiers after the Humans and Heretics for a reason.

Qrs image appeared on the holographic screen "Fleet-Master." Qrs nodded his head in respect.

"Brother," Vale returned the nod before continuing "My theory has been confirmed. The Prophet of Pity acted out on orders. And my conclusion has been unveiled: the Prophets are hiding something."

"Orders?" Qrs calmly clicked his hidden mandibles in question.

_Straight to the point -excellent. _"I took note of the Prophet of Pitys' attempting to try to divert me from seeing the Heretics in any way," Vale began "I still do not know why. But I know that making contact with the Heretics is vital to uncovering a potential plot."

"I am to make contact with them?" Qrs calmly clicked his mandibles in question.

_Yes. _"Yes," Vale nodded his head in confirmation "I understand they are with the Humans. But there is always a reason behind such drastic actions. Ignore any heresy or hatred that comes from this; making contact with the Heretics is mandatory -no matter what we must do."

"I understand." Qrs nodded in reply.

_I have no doubt that you do. _"Also, inform Yexyn of what I have revealed as well," Vale told him "he I know I can trust with such a task. And he is to do his best to assist you in the task I have laid upon your shoulders. But remember, you must act discreetly."

"Of course." Qrs nodded in reply.

_This will hopefully play out how I desire it to. _"I shall speak with you soon." Vale clicked his mandibles in parting as he disconnected the transmission and leaned back into his hovering seat.

_How absurd that he expected me to believe that a single Oracle was for some reason rogue. And now he expects me to believe that this sacred ring "has been infected by the rogue Oracles' heresy"? Please..._

_I am no fool..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2200 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite _****Dropship 77-Troop Carrier: Charlie-41, Assigned To Hunting Down Flood Forces, Installation 06.**

**Thel 'Lodam...**

* * *

><p>"It means <em>WHAT<em>?" Thel roared in shock.

"I repeat: The Human term 'fuck' is a slang term for mating." The Monarch explained over the open COM channel that the Huragok linked the Diverted to.

_I feel sick!_ Thel almost went on a rampage when he found out what "Shit" meant. Now, he wished he never found out the truth so that he could continue killing the pathetic creatures.

"_Disgusting worms_." Anve snapped his mandibles in disgust as he fired his Type-50 particle beam rifle at a fleeing Flood Form that was made up by the same creature as the Flood Form that attacked the Demon earlier that day.

"We're... _right here_." A Human named Jacob Dalton reminded them in a mock voice.

_We know this. But we simply do not care. _Thel turned to face the Human and let out a hiss.

"Got one." Another Human with odd colored skin by the name of Mysef Alum announced in its' odd Human accent.

"Don't get cocky." The Human leader by the name of Lynda told Mysef as it too fired its' stupid looking sniper-rifle.

Thel picked up his beam rifle and aimed into the distant jungle. It was initially hard to kill the Flood Combat Forms when the Human dropship was moving. But after Thel informed Lynda of this, it called Thel and his men "Pussies" -which Thel was going to get the Monarch to define in a moment- before she told the dropships' pilot to stay idle.

A shot quickly rang out which killed the Combat Form Thel was about to kill. And with each of his targets being taken out by the Humans, Thel hissed through his gritted mandibles in annoyance before lowering his mandibles and taking a seat on one of the Humans' annoying seats.

"Wade, ammo." Lynda quickly said with the Human named Wade Tulnai walking out of its corner before chucking her a Human sniper clip and concluding with it going back to its' corner in the dropship.

Thel was observant of Wade. All it did was lean on a wall next to the door that led to the dropships' cockpit, and stared at Thel and his men -as if it was watching them. Thel was worried this Human might try something.

"Got one!" A Unggoy Heavy by the name of Dlapyap beamed.

"That one was already dead." Anve told the Unggoy before smacking the creature over the head for his stupidity with him letting out a cry on pain before going over to a Human seat where he was comforted by his kin as he cried. _These creatures are so stupid it is almost... amusing._

"I have some drastic news to report to you," The Monarch suddenly said over the Human Battlenet. _This cannot be good. And I think I know what it means to tell us._ "The Reclaimer sent into the quarantine zone has been captured by a Flood Gravemind."

_Just as I predicted. _Thel watched as the Humans around the dropship began to let out annoyed and angry groans and yells.

Thel even noticed that Anve was twitching him mandibles in annoyance. But he knew it was not for the Demons' well being.

Anve threw his beam rifle to the dropships' ground in anger "Damn it! The Demon had my sword!"

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2204 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Bridge, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>"Is the Captain okay?" Lieutenant Lilly Gantant asked Doctor Hallas Day as she spotted him entering the room.<p>

"No," Hallas calmly replied before he came to a stop in the center of the bridge "The medics say she is usually in some sort of pain... but they say that this is the _worst_ they have ever seen her. And the fact is, we can't seem to find out what's _wrong_ with her. At least, that was until she painfully mumbled that Sierra-098 is her fraternal twin brother, and they can feel what each other feels."

Rhine Dorhan almost jumped out of his seat upon hearing this. _Is ONI was so stupid as to let someone so closely related to a SPARTAN join the Navy? This war has made us stoop low indeed._

"_Really?_" Ensign Benjamin Hardinworth chuckled in amazement "She always said... But... _this is amazing_?"

"Yes, _really lovely_," Lieutenant Joseph Gamble broke in with his usual grumpy voice "It doesn't really mean much, though, now that the Petty Officer is being tortured by the Flood."

_As much as I dislike the way you put it... you're right. _It was almost odd seeing all these people having a conversation without even shifting their eyes from their consoles, or moving from their assigned stations.

"Don't worry, We'll get him outta there,_ right?_" Lieutenant James Frassal -one of the _Kryptonites' _Weapons Officers- asked.

_Sadly, you're wrong._

"I doubt that's gonna happen," Gantant stated "I heard the Captain order Sierra to commit suicide to prevent her from being inflicted by his pain -which obviously didn't happen."

_Shit. That's right._

"She did what?" Hallas calmly asked them.

"Fucking bitch told the Sierra to kill himself to save herself from pain." Ensign Alex Giles -one of the _Kryptonites' _Weapon Officers- clarified in his usual cold voice.

_You have the facts wrong, you idiot!_ "That's not what happened!" Rhine shot up out of his chair in anger "she told Sierra-098 to kill himself to prevent Intel from falling into the _hands of the Flood_! Maybe you have forgotten, but Earths' safety is the UNSCs' number one priority!" Rhine wasted no time in hurrying over to Giles' station and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. _I'm sick of these runts. _"And as everyone noticed, the Captain _was in tears when she gave the order_!"

Giles shoved Rhine's hand off of his shoulder "It takes a sick person to order their own family member to kill themselves." He stated with Rhine placing his hand sternly on his shoulder again.

_I'd to the same. _"No, this makes her stronger, you _damn moron_," Rhine tightened his hand around Giles' shoulder "Anyway, you're just pissed about the kick she landed to your face earlier."

Giles' let out a grunt of anger, but didn't continue. _Damn idiot. _Rhine finally released his grip of Giles' shoulder, and walked over to Hallas who -along with everyone else who was idle on the bridge- was looking at him.

"That wasn't necessary." Hallas calmly stated as Rhine stopped in front of him.

_Yes, it was._ "I'm sick of these Navy runts," Rhine whispered. _I'm just sprouting useless words._ "Ah, it's irrelevant. I need to speak with you, now."

"Okay." Hallas nodded with Rhine turning around to make his way off of the bridge.

_Now comes the bad part about this revelation._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2213 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**The Base Of Forerunner Portal, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>"Holy Prophet of Pity," Vale bowed before the Prophet of Pity who was out for some fresh air, the cold grass of Halo rubbed against Vale's clothed knee as he knelt "I bring word of the holy high Prophet of Truths' response on my request to apprehend you for illegal use of your political power."<p>

The Honor Guards surrounding the Prophet began to get ready in-case they had to arrest the Prophet of Pity. But the two Brute Captain Ultras and Careekius seemed unfazed by what was happening.

The Prophet of Pity let out a smirk as he began rubbing his wobbles. _You are only furthering my heretical theory. _"The Prophet of Truth has refused my request," Vale began "You are safe from justice -but only until _High Charity_ arrives for you to be judged discreetly. Furthermore, any mention of you being involved with Zealot Var 'Lultamees' murder will be met with a swift punishment of execution."

The Prophet of Pity could not contain the grin on his face, and the Honor Guards began to relax.

But just as Vale was about to turn and head back to his quarters, the Prophet of Pitys' sneering voice called him "Fleet-Master, get on your knees before me -the holy Prophet of Pity."

_Your attempts to harm me by smacking me is ineffective. _Vale nevertheless, did what he was told, and knelt before the Prophet.

"Careekius," The Prophet of Pity turned to the Jiralhanae Chieftain. _Really? This is only going to make you out as weak. _"ten hits across his face; hard as you can."

Careekius reluctantly nodded and walked over to Vale where his eyes showed sadness. _Oh, no; I do not hate you for your actions that are about to come into effect. _Vale gave Careekius a reassuring nod.

Careekius nodded in reply, sadness still in his eyes, and hit Vale across the side of his face, sending blood and one of Vales' teeth splattering out of his mandibles. _Damn! You hit hard!_

The Prophet of Pity let out a giggle as Careekius landed another hit before Vale could recover, sending purple blood flying from his mouth and spluttering onto the cold ground. _This will leave me dazed for days!_

Vales' vision began to blur as another hit sent two teeth and blood spraying out of his mouth like a fountain. _I shall face my punishment with pride; you will not have me beg, Prophet of Pity._

Vale held a hand to the ground, and supported himself until he was up straight. And just as Vale wanted, the Prophet of Pitys' laughter died down when he realized Vale was taking this like a warrior.

Careekius was about to land a fourth hit when Vale spotted a Ghost speeding out from a nearby forest and rushing their way without stop.

"Careekius." Vale breathlessly clicked his mandibles in an attempt to warn them.

"Ah, ah!" The Prophet of Pity almost jumped out of his anti-gravity throne "He finally begs for mercy!"

_If you would be quiet, you could be warned of your possible demise. _Vale pointed towards the speeding Ghost "Behind you."

The Honor Guards, the Prophet of Pity, Careekius, and the two Captain Ultras all spun around in unison.

"Move!" The Ghost driver yelled as the Ghost got closer "It is out of my control!"

Vale bolted out-of-the-way with Careekius doing the same. But the Prophet of Pity -not being able to dodge out-of-the-way- only just got out of the Ghosts' pathway as it sped by them.

Vale snapped his head around to see a Sangheili Minor leap out of the Ghost as it slammed into the Prophets' portable quarters, and exploded, sending shrapnel flying -none of which managed to hit them. But some small bits of shrapnel hit the Minor, but was reflected by the Minors' shields.

"_HERETIC_!" The Prophet of Pity screamed in rage with everyone -including the Minor- turning to face him "YOU TRIED TO KILL ME _-THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY!_"

Vale snaked his head around to see the Minor kneel "You misunderstand-"

"_SILENCE_!" The Prophet of Pity screamed, interrupting the young Minor "YOU DARE SPEAK IN MY -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITYS'- PRESENCE! YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF SUCH AN HONOR!"

_This farce again? _"Back to the current topic," Vale quickly and swiftly broke in with a few clicks of his possible broken mandibles as soldiers began to rush into the courtyard to see what happened "I believe it necessary to hear this Minor out."

Two Sangheili immediately positioned themselves by the Minors' sides, likely figuring out that he was the pilot of the Ghost. Another few Sangheili and a Jiralhanae ran towards where the Ghost crashed to inspect the damage. A few Kig-Yar medics ran to the Prophets' aid, and began checking him for wounds -they also attempted to check the Honor Guards and Captain Ultras, but they shrugged them off -the Honor Guards more aggressively due to them being Sangheili.

The Prophet of Pity began to let out a deep breaths, venting his anger "I -the holy Prophet of Pity- will not allow this Heretic to explain his actions when they are already apparent."

_You believe he attempted to kill you. That is a foolish belief -for who would wish you dead? _"His arrest will fall on my hands," Vale calmly stated "and I _will _hear him out."

"_Do not speak to me -the holy Prophet of Pity- that way_." The Prophet coldly warned him.

_What way? _"What way?" Careekius asked the Prophet of Pity, taking the words out of Vales' mind.

"That way he spoke to me -the holy Prophet of Pity." The Prophet began swirling his left hand at Vale in an almost confused way.

_This is ridiculous. _"I spoke to you in no way that exempts respect." Vale calmly clicked his mandibles in statement.

"Yes you did." The Prophet protested.

_No I did not. _"He did not, holy Prophet." Careekius interjected.

"Yes he did." The Prophet protested again before falling out of his seat. _Now I understand._

"Holy Prophet," Careekius ran to the Prophets' aid, but he was already being steadied back into his seat by the Captain Ultras.

"Shock," Vale rubbed his lower mandibles in observation "Take the holy Prophet of Pity to his quarters aboard the _Everlasting Retribution_."

The Honor Guards wasted no time, and began pushing the anti-gravity throne towards the gravity lift leading into the _Everlasting Retributions' _bowls with a few soldiers assisting the Honor Guards.

"I shall try to sway him from continuing that beating." Careekius chuckled as he ran after the Prophets' escort.

_I doubt your words shall be heeded by him. But it would be a nice change. _Vale nodded at the Chieftain before snapping his head around when he saw some medics approach him.

Vale respected his races' culture. But he did not agree with the superstition that blood was the essence of honor, and that if you lost your blood, you were losing your honor. Vale hated that too many Sangheili took their lives over such a trivial thing.

Vale nodded for the Kig-Yar to approach as he knelt so they could reach his face.

_Now, back to the topic. _Vale did not lift his head to face the Minor "What is your name?"

"Skae 'Kuzomee." The Minor clicked his mandibles in reply.

_'Kuzomee? A fine lineage. _"What happened?" Vale clicked his mandibles in question at Skae.

Skae began to click his mandibles in explanation "I was with a supply convoy -delivering supplies to the outposts- when the convoy was attacked by fowl beasts of this sacred ring. I would have stayed and died with my comrades, but I was using a Ghost that was originally used by a Unggoy. And that foolish Unggoy had a Huragok modify the Ghost so that it would turn around and head back to base if the Ghost received any large amount of harmful damage. And being modified by a Huragok meant that I could not stop it."

_Your story has strength; the Huragok and Unggoy get along well. And some Unggoy are dumb enough to retreat from co,bat only to die from execution but a unit later. _"Until the Ghost is fully examined and diagnosed, you will have to be held in captivity." Vale informed him.

"I understand." Skae clicked his mandibles as the two Sangheili next to him grabbed his arms.

_This is not only to hold you captive. _"This is mainly for your protection," Vale reassured him "for the cells I am sending you to are out of the grasp of any Jiralhanae; your assassination by the Prophet of Pity will be nigh impossible."

Skae nodded again before Vale gave the two Sangheili the signal to take him away.

_Sadly, this means that more future conflict with the Prophet of Pity is to come._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 7, 2547 [2214 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>"Why here?" Hallas questioned Rhine in a puzzled voice as he took a seat on one of the couches.<p>

_There's a simple reason why. _"I decided here so nobody will hear us."

"Why the cloak and daggers? And... Timmy can _still_ hear us." Hallas reminded Rhine.

Timmys' avatar suddenly appeared on the holo-tank by the entrance to the lounge "Yes, I can hear you. Now, mind telling me what all this secrecy is about?"

Hallas turned to face Rhine before he raised his eyebrows in a way that said "I told you so". _Yeah, yeah. _Rhine turned to face Timmys' avatar "Your loyalties are to ONI -not this crew. Remember this fact or I will make you remember." Rhine warned him.

"_What the hell_?" Hallas exclaimed "What _are_ you going on about?"

_Protocol. _Rhine let out a sigh "You really haven't put any thought into what I am about to say, have you?" Rhine asked Hallas with him shaking his head in reply "When we get back to Earth, Captain Jsarez is going to be _pretty pissed_ at ONI over a her brother being kidnapped and _forcefully conscripted_ into a military program where we _basically brainwashed a bunch of kids into killing machines_."

Hallas widened his eyes when he figured out what Rhine was talking about "You want to kill her."

_Sadly... yeah... yeah I do. _"Hallas... it's not a case of want... I mean... _I _don't want to kill her... i- it's just that we need to follow protocol, we _need _to have her eliminated." Rhine elaborated.

Hallas leaned back into the couch and let out a sigh "You've got flaws, you know? _(I know) _First of all, there's the case that the entire ship now knows of Red being her brother."

_Let me explain. _"I doubt they know that Red was kid- _wait_... then again... they will come to the obvious conclusion easily."

"Yeah," Hallas agreed "And even with Timmys' help, you ain't going to kill the entire crew before they kill you."

_I'm not alone in this. _"And you. I doubt that they will discriminate." Rhine warned him.

Hallas shook his head "I'm not in for this; in-fact, I'm against this. _(Damn, I knew he would do this)_ Captain Courtney is a fine strategic commander. And I'm not about to stand idly by while she gets killed over ONIs' public image."

_Public image? It's more than that! _"The Insurrection is already bad enough. Do you seriously think that the press won't act?" Rhine asked him "Humanity will be torn inside-out over this!"

Hallas rolled his eyes at that "Then _tell that to the Captain_. Make her know of the consequences of letting any personal revenge agenda take control of her. Tell her _what you just told me_!"

_She's too stubborn for that! _"If we get back, we'll end this war. And do you think that a larger scale rebellion will matter to her once the Covenant are stopped?"

_Answer that. _Hallas let out a sigh "This argument is futile;_ I will not let_ _you_ _kill_ _anyone_ aboard this ship."

_You're right: this argument is futile. _"Report me in then," Rhine opened his arms out as if saying "Come and have it." "But if you do, I will just inform HIGHCOM of your failure to act on protocol. And you could just tell the crew of what I just said, and they could then kill me. But they won't do anything to harm the only way home." Rhine turned and looked at Timmy who had so far been quiet.

Hallas looked at Timmy and narrowed his eyes "Would you do that?"

"Affirmative," Timmy nodded his holographic head "Although, it would be against what I want, I will do what is ordered of me by my superiors."

Hallas turned his head back around and let out a sigh. _He is letting his good moral judgment get in his way. _"I know what you're trying to do here, Hallas," Rhine went over and took a seat on the couch opposite to his "But a lot of innocent people _will die _if the SPARTAN II Program gets into the presses hands; we'll be doing the right thing."

Hallas let out a sigh of submit "We prepare, okay," Hallas finally gave in. _Yes. I didn't want to have to do this without a friend. _"But as soon as we can, we'll talk to the captain about this, and see if we can't change her mind. If she still refuses after we explain things to her... then we'll act -not before."

_Yes, yes, I agree. _"Yes. And thank you; I couldn't have done this alone." Rhine had to resist hugging Hallas.

"Don't talk to me like I'm your _friend_!" Hallas snapped "When you threaten to have me _basically killed_... I'll get pissed -as would any normal person."

_Damn it. _Rhine simply nodded as he redirected his eyes in shame and embarrassment. But thankfully, Timmy finally spoke "How do we proceed with this?"

_I figured that out earlier. _"We have more allies than you know," Rhine stated "There's Fireteam Night, for one. They are ONIs' lapdogs through and through. There's also the Marines that will take money over loyalty any day."

"I can go through each Marines' file and see who would be likely Candidate," Timmy concluded "see whom would be likely to accept this _"Bribe"_."

_Sounds like a plan. I just hope you have a keen eye. _"Agreed," Rhine nodded his head "But we'll go after Fireteam Black first; I know we can trust them."

Rhine then turned to Hallas who hadn't said a word since he agreed to go along with the "Mutiny" "Hallas..." Hallas turned to face him, but his eyes still didn't connect with his "If Captain Jsarez doesn't exit her 'state of pain' we won't be able to speak to her."

"_'If'_" Hallas reminded Rhine.

_Yes... "If"..._


	20. The Darkness of Night

**November 8, 2547 [0412 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**Unknown Location, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p><em>I will always protect you- Protect her from what?<em>

098 couldn't feel nor move any part of his body. He couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't even turn his head. All he knew was pain... and a voice in his head.

He was captured by the Flood; he made a mistake, and now... Humanity was going to pay the price.

_Protect her from what? Let us dwell deeper into the past to find the truth._

098s' vision suddenly came to life. He was in what looked like a school. He still couldn't speak nor move -the body he was in moved for him, making its' way towards the door to the school.

Suddenly, there was a scream, and the body 098 was in moved at full speed around the school to a small playground where a little girl was being hit by a large boy.

"LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!" The person 098 was seeing through screamed in rage as he ran towards the large boy at full speed before landing a punch into his face.

"Owe!" The large boy cried in pain as he held his face.

"I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH MY SISTER, _YOU BULLY!_" The person 098 was seeing through screamed at the large boy in rage before the boy went running towards the school building, crying as he ran.

The person 098 was seeing through then turned to the girl on the ground who was crying -the girl looked familiar.

The person 098 was seeing through offered the crying Girl a hand which she took before the person 098 was seeing through bought her into a hug "Are you okay, Nai? _(Nai?) _Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you again; he's just a big bully."

"He is _so mean!_" Nai cried.

"Don't worry," The person 098 was seeing through hugged the girl tighter "I'll always protect you."

_So sweet... so touching- Disengage- You want me gone? I am but everywhere; you cannot ever be without me._

A loud chuckling sound rumbled through 098s' ears. _"Protect her"? Where were you to protect her when this happened._

A scene suddenly came into play: A teenage girl was silently lying on a bed with another teenager male on top her, thrusting his bare hips his around hers. 098 didn't understand what he was seeing.

_I sense your confusion... She is being -what your type of food refer to as- "Raped". A sweet affair of going to a social interaction called a "Ball" ended in misery as she was impregnated at too young an age. But I understand you are confused as to how you are seeing something that you were never present for... I am all..._

Suddenly another scene came into 098s' mind as the girl who was being "Raped" was sitting on a chair with an older women that 098 thought he recognized sat on a chair with a desk separating the two. On the desk there was a Data-console, and various other meaningless objects surrounding it. There was also paintings on the walls with a large window showing the same playground that Nai was being beaten up in.

"Your parents say you 'were raped'..." The older women let out a chuckle "I say your just a _little_ _whore_."

"Says the cunt who was found in the supply room with Mr Teddisons'_ cock _in her mouth; I'm amazed as to how you _weren't fired_." The teenage girl retorted.

The older women let out a slight chuckle "That was love; you _fucked_ that boy out of blinding teenage instincts; you're a _slut_."

The teenage girl lifted her head to look at the older women "I guess you don't understand the concept of rape; I HAD _NO CHOICE_ IN WHAT HE DID TO ME!"

"If you were _'raped'_, then you're not _'the fighter'_ you always claimed to be," The older women scoffed.

The girl immediately jumped out of her chair and calmly walked out of the room with the older women screaming at her to come back.

_This is what the almighty Human race has developed to after the rings were set alight?... your race used to be with honor. Hmm... You are trying to work out who that older women was. _The voice let out a chuckle. _She has a long history with your sister._

Another scene appeared in 098s' vision; it was the same room he was just in, with the same women, and the same girl, but they were years younger.

"What was all that screaming about?" The women asked the girl who appeared to be Nai.

"I felt something bash into my stomach, Miss Christina." Nai replied with eyes to the floor, and her hands on her stomach. _Mendez._

"No, you're just being _naughty_; a... _'little shit'_ is the proper word." The women named Christina falsely observed. _Why "falsely"?_

Nai began to cry "Why do you hate me, Miss?"

Christina let out a chuckle and rose from her seat "Because... _you're worth hating..._"

The scene quickly swooshed away, and 098 could only see black again. _This food defined your sisters' personality. You could not protect your sister from this food; your promise... a lie- Irrelevant- No, you will hurt._

Another scene came into play with an older looking Nai sitting at a desk in what looked like her room. She was doing some type of paperwork when a boy came into her room "Courtney, I need your help with my homework." The boy said.

Nai turned to face the boy "Go away." She coldly told him.

The boy nodded, and left the room without protest.

The scene then faded to black. _That young food was you; she hated you. She did not feel any emotion for you; not even when you died. How does that make you feel- Irrelevant. Past events are always irrelevant._

098 heard a booming laughter again. _"Are always"? I'm beginning to break you..._

Whatever the voice was, it got its' facts wrong.

098 could never be broken.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [0609 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>"Fireteam Night," Timmy mused "ONI was getting desperate."<p>

Hallas cleared his throat from the couch across from Rhine that he was sitting in before grabbing his Data-pad out of his pocket and began reading from it "First candidate: Major Adam Franti -or, 'Night's Shadow'- He's in charge of all ODST forces aboard the _Kryptonite_, so that may give us leverage over some of the crew. As why he was convicted... he apparently _'cracked' _after he heard that his entire family was killed on Arcadia in 2531 -he was already an ODST- and after he _'cracked'_, he decided 'fuck it' and killed a bunch of ODSTs that had been annoying him and his team for months; it didn't help that these dip-shit ODSTs mocked his dead family."

_Well, with all the dip-shit ODSTs on this tub that he hasn't killed, perhaps I can feel reassured that he won't go nuts again. _"Go on." Rhine nodded for Hallas to continue.

Rhine recently decided to have Hallas tell him about Fireteam Night before they arrived in a few minutes. And Fireteam Night's origins is dark. ONI offered them new identities and a load of credits if they fought the Covenant. But they didn't just pick a bunch of convicts at random. These five convicts stuck together in the prison they were in; looking out for each other and the likes. They apparently formed a brotherhood in the prison. And the reports said they worked extremely well together to overcome the obstacles of the prison. They trusted each other, and would die for each other. ONI just couldn't resist such an effective team for spec op missions.

"Second candidate: First Lieutenant Rick Cylus -or, 'Night's Wing'-," Hallas continued "Rick's the second in command of the ODST forces aboard the _Kryptonite_, and the second in command of Fireteam Night. And his crimes revolve around assassinating the Governor of Crainstyrk in 2542."

_I heard about that; murderers of politics always get worse sentences than normal murderers. I hate stupid equality. _Hallas cleared his throat as he continued "Second Lieutenant Toless Morgan -or, 'Night's Angel'- Fireteam Night's designated marksmen, and third in command of the entire ODST force aboard this ship. He was convicted for crimes that are _a bit messier_... he... _um_... _he_..." Hallas began scratching the back of his head and a disgusted looked appeared over his face "He had a _nasty habit_ of kidnapping models on Earth where he _raped them_ before killing them. He then _ate them_ while _masturbating_ to videos he took of him _raping_ _his victims_."

_Oh... damn... It's him... _Rhine tried to keep the disgust from appearing on his face.

"Forth..." Hallas continued "Sergeant Major Theodore Douglas -or 'Night's Rage'- He's Fireteam Night's scout. And as for why he was convicted... he's the killer of Tenstal; _need I say more?_"

_No. _Rhine shook his head with Hallas nodding in compliance before he began reading again. "Last -_but not least_: Gunnery Sergeant Ivan Roras -or 'Night's Ambition'- He's Night's heavy weapon specialist. And he was convicted for _molesting_ _over two hundred girls_.

_Damn it. _The thought of his own daughter being molested came into his mind and he quickly quelled the disgusting thought. _Wait, something doesn't add up. _"Wait, some of the crimes they committed don't warrant a death penalty." Rhine pointed out.

"Yeah," Hallas agreed before reading from his Data-pad again "The reason they almost faced the death penalty is because they were behind the engineering of a prison escape. Some guards got killed during the escape, and the press wouldn't discriminate over which ones killed who. The only reason they aren't dead is because ONI got interested in them."

_Desperate indeed. _Rhine let out a sigh and relaxed in his seat. And just on time, five ODSTs walked through the entrance.

Roras wasted no time, and hurried over to the bar where he immediately poured himself some wine from Reach. But the rest decided to "Play professional" and immediately seated themselves on the couches surrounding the coffee table.

There was an awkward silence as Rhine attempted to keep his eyes redirected from the eyes of the ODSTs. Thankfully, Hallas finally spoke up "We should probably get his over soon -before the Covenant decided they want their room back."

"We shouldn't have given the best room in this fucking tub to the damn aliens," Roras growled from where he was sitting "And if the damned Captain really had to give them this room, she could have at least gotten all the damn booze out -instead of leaving it for that _fucking Jackal_."

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" Franti snapped at Roras.

Adam Franti was different from the other ODSTs. It may had been to the fact that he already was a ODST before he was convicted. He had his hair shaven to near nothing, and had a full stubble across his face. He had a multitude of scars running across his face. But the most noteworthy one was the one that went across his left eye and nose. It was no energy blade scar, though. That was a knife scar. He also had various prison and ODST tattoos on his face. One of the worst was the tattoos of the names of the members of the Fireteam he murdered -likely some type of tribute -which was odd. Over-all, Franti looked like an angry man. And he was; he had good reasons to be after his entire family was killed on Arcadia.

"Why are we here?" Morgan finally questioned Rhine as Roras let out a growl at Frantis' aggression.

_At least someone is going straight to the point. _"I guess you already know about Sierra 098 being Captain Jsarezs' fraternal twin brother." Rhine began.

"Yeah," Douglas confirmed "and I thought conscripting convicts was as low as ONI could go."

Morgan let out a laugh at that. _I bet you laughed like that a lot when you were raping those poor models. _One of the models that was kidnapped by Morgan was a model that appeared in many films that Rhine liked. Judy Walker was one of Rhines' favorite actresses; hell, he watched her films when she was just a child actress.

"You... _okay_, _sir_?" Cylus asked Rhine, no worriment in his tone.

_Yeah, yeah. _Rhine simply nodded before removing the disgusted face he had.

"Continue already!" Franti snapped at him.

_Asshole. _"Since the entire crew knows about something that has the potential of bringing the UEG down, I decided it would be best to stage a mutiny-"

"Timmy's right back there, sir." Morgan calmly pointed out with Franti, Douglas, and Cylus turning their heads towards the entrance.

_Let me explain. _"Sadly," Timmy said before Rhine could say anything "Lieutenant Dorhan, and Doctor Day decided to utilize me on their mission to kill pretty much everyone on this ship."

"Hey!" Hallas snapped "I was dragged into this too!"

"You have a choice in the matter, Doctor." Timmy countered.

_Oh for Gods' sake. _"Enough," Rhine rolled his eyes in annoyance "We're going off topic."

Franti let out a chuckle "What even makes you think that we would help you in murdering the entire crew, sir? we're friends with half of them."

_I figured this out earlier. _"The crew doesn't know you are convicts, though; and I doubt they will like you as much as they do now if they knew what you _did_," Rhine stated "Anyway, you're part of ONI -not this crew. Remember your place or perhaps you'll just go back to that shit-hole that is your proper home."

Morgan let out a chuckle "Boys, the lieutenant here resents us."

Franti slammed his hand down onto the coffee table "You _resent us_?!" He snapped at Rhine coldly "You kidnapped a bunch of kids _(Not me, I had no part in that) _and turned them into killing machines! And now you want to murder this entire over ONIs' stupid _fucking public image_?! And you think _we're _despicable?!"

_Fucking moron. _"First of all: I had no part in the SPARTAN II Program," Rhine countered "And second: I'm only doing what's best for Humanity -not the UEG. Think 'bout it; thousands of people will die if the press decided to act against the UEG and ONI."

"We mightn't even have to kill the crew," Hallas added "If the Captain leaves her 'state of pain', we may be able to tell her this, and convince her not to do anything stupid."

_And it's not the "entire crew". _"And if not," Rhine added "a bunch of Marines on this ship would happily accept credits to assist in the mutiny and forget about what they heard about the SPARTAN II Program."

"Will we get credits?" Douglas asked Rhine.

_Hell yes!_ "Hell, I bet ONI will give you anything you ask for if you assist in preventing a larger scale Rebellion."

"Sounds good to me!" Roras drunkenly slurred.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed with a nod "I want my new I.D sooner rather than later."

"We're in." Franti announced before anyone else could.

_You didn't have a choice anyway. _Rhine decided to keep that though to himself.

"There's a problem, you know," Cylus stated before anyone could say anything else "you say your only going to kill those who don't accept this bribe. Let me say that I doubt the Command Crew will accept."

_Yeah, I figured that out. _"Timmy can pilot the _Kryptonite _himself," Rhine stated "But just in-case, we'll be taking the Command Crew captive before executing them when we get back to Earth."

"_Execute_ _our captives_?" Toless observed "Seems unnecessary."

_And you would care?_ "Fine, we won't. We'll just keep them captive until we get back to Earth; let HIGHCOM decide what to do with them."

"The Diverted are making their way here now." Timmy warned them.

_Damn it. We're gonna have to find another place to meet up. _"Come on, Night," Franti said as he pushed himself up from his chair "We'll continue this _scheming_ later."

_"Later"? no, we need to act sooner rather than "later". Perhaps while we're travelling in slipspace back to Ear- oh shit, what are we gonna do about the Monarch?_

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [0617 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Unknown Location, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p><em>You were designed and created out of hate and spite... You Hated Halsey; you spited her. And you created this "098" personality to spite her. But the jest was on you when you acting like a machine actually made you a machine. Amusing.<em>

098 wanted to scream at the pain; he wanted it to stop. But there was no stop. Memory after Memory flooded his mind as he saw things that he shouldn't have been able to see, as he saw the pain he inflicted on his sister.

Another scene suddenly appeared into 098s' vision. It was Nai again. She was sitting in her living room -one that 098 had visited a lot thanks to the Gravemind. And sitting on a couch across from her was her parents. Nai looked to be 16 here.

"Abortion is a heavy decision," Her mother calmly stated "When I was a girl, I had the notion that if a women didn't want a child, they should use protection. But then my mum would then tell me that some women are raped. I then began to understand the concept of it. But, Courtney, you don't have to take a life; everyone is willing to help you raise the baby."

"But I don't want a child," Nai cried "I never have -_never_."

"Why?" Her dad asked her.

"Because I can't _feel_ happy without Red." Nai explained.

"This again?" Her father coldly asked her.

"_Yusaf!_" Her mother snapped at her father.

"Red's dead," Her father reminded her "You need to grow up, and move on."

"_He's not dead!_" Nai cried, tears falling out of her eyes "You don't listen to reason; _you never fucking have_. I know that Red is alive, _BUT YOU NEVER HAVE FUCKING LISTENED!_"

Nai wasted no time, and jumped off of the couch and ran back up the stairs to her room with her mother calling for her to come back.

_Humanity takes life in more ways than one. Your sister was a murderer before she even joined your "Navy"_

Another scene came into play. It was Nai sitting in Christinas' office again.

It didn't take long for 098 to figure out that Christina was the principle of the school Nai went to.

"Abortion?" Christina chuckled "You really are a little coward."

"Why am I here?" Nai questioned Christina in a cold tone.

"Because I wanted to indulge myself in your suffering," Christina replied with a chuckle as she got up from her seat and walked over to Nai "So, have your parents listened to you about me being the _'big, evil monster'_?" Christina let out a chuckle "They will always believe the lovely teacher over the _violent_ little daughter any day."

Nai lifted her face up to face the teacher "I believe in Karma, you cocksucking cunt; you will get yours."

"_Watch_ your tongue!" Christina snapped at her "_You whore!_"

The scene changed. And 098 quickly realized that this was a memory, not a scene.

Red was in bed with his sister cuddled up to him.

"Nai?" The younger Red that 098 was seeing through asked Nai.

"Yeah?" Nai replied.

"I've decided that I won't let dad take me to the big city without you." The younger Red explained.

"Really?" She asked in excitement.

"Yes." The younger Red confirmed.

The memory faded as the booming of the Graveminds' laughter filled 098s' ear. _So sweet, so innocent. But every sweet and innocent being in the great Universe shall soon be but food and dust. Your sister will be the start of our grand conquest._

_The Flood, have returned._


	21. Breaking the Walls of Sanity

_"Stay behind me, Doctor." I told doctor Halsey as several Elite Minors -led by a Major- approached them._

_"Sheila, you can't kill them all," The Doctor warned me, the sounds of the Covenant assault on Miridem was in my ears. Nobody other Human but me and the Doctor had survived the Covenants initial attack on the convoy escorting the Doctor to the excavation site "And they can't have me alive; kill us both, now!"_

_"I can beat them, Doctor." I reassured her. I wasn't going to die here. And I had a plan; kill these bastards, commandeer one of the vehicles transporting them, and get back to the city where EVAC would be._

_The Elite Major held its hand out to stop its Minors from engaging us "The Demon is mine." The Major said with my translation device telling me what it said._

_The Minors nodded in respect as the Major grabbed its' two energy swords sheathed on its thighs' MWHS. It was odd for an Elite to have two energy swords. But I put the thought side when the Major tossed me one of its' swords._

_I made no attempt to catch it, and it simply hit my chest plate before falling to the ground._

_The Major gritted its mandibles and let out a light hiss "Have honor; duel me."_

_Honor wasn't on my agenda, and I quickly raised my Assault Rifle and shot at it with it and its' Minors dodging out-of-the-way before the Major twisted around and leaped towards me._

_It bought its' hoof up and smashed it into my stomach. I staggered for a moment, but the Major was fast, and it grabbed my Assault Rifle and ripped it out of my hands. I was about to hit it since it was close, but I felt a large burning pain go through my chest._

_"Sheila!" The Doctor exclaimed._

_I looked down to see the Major had stabbed its' energy sword into my chest. I attempted to lift my arms to attack it, but the pain was too much. I fought for my life, but the Major ripped its energy sword out of my chest and swung it around before slicing through me._

_I spat blood all across my visor as I fell to the ground, desperately trying to cling onto my life._

_But I felt the life leaving me... I- I..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [0928 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Unknown Location, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p><em>Do you hate him for what he did to her? Do you hate him?- Personal emotions irrelevant.- I will make you hate him. But first, I must break you.<em>

A scene suddenly appeared. It was outside the school on Harvest, Nai was 16, and she along with dozens of students and parents had gathered around to watch Christina -surrounded by Solicitors- converse with the teachers of the school -also surrounded by even more Solicitors.

"This is _absurd_." Christina scoffed.

"You're right,_ it is_." The lead teacher coldly agreed.

Nai had a smile on her face. But she wasn't behind what ever happened; this was on Christinas' own accord.

"Yeah, _it is_," Christina scoffed "and I'm going to _sue _this shit-hole to the ground over this crap; I said I would change, _and I will_."

The teachers began to laugh "You said that when we found _you_ and Mr Teddison in the supply room," The lead teacher countered "But nothing changed? _Did it_? You were preforming these _disgusting acts _in a _school_! We should have fired you after the first incident; not risk being sued by a hundred angry parents."

Christina spat in the lead teachers' face with the crowd of people and some teachers and Solicitors letting out exclaims and grunts of disgust.

The lead teacher calmly wiped the spit away "You know, it's people like you that reminds me the Universe is an evil place. _But I will never allow anyone to inflict that evil on these kids why they still have time for their innocence_."

"Let's go." One of the Solicitors with Christina said with Christina letting out a scoff before turning around and making her way to the Solicitors vehicle.

"She really is disgusting," Nais' mother -who 098 just noticed- remarked before turning her head around to face Nai "Courtney, I'm _so, so sorry_."

Tears began to appear in Nais' eyes, and she hurried towards her mother where she hit her mother across the face with the crowd letting out exclaims of shock "_The years_ I had to deal with that _bitch_ because _you wouldn't listen to me_. What _type _of mother do you call yourself?"

Tears appeared from Nais' mothers' eyes as she held the side of her red face. And all of a sudden, Nai landed another hard hit before calmly turning around and walking into the school with everyones' eyes on her.

_Civil conflict between families... if your pathetic races' politics are to this magnitude and beyond... your subjugation will be swift and severe- Negative. We will engage and eliminate you- you still breath words like that? After all you have witnessed of your sister... your false mental state has not broken to let through the stronger one. Perhaps... something more recent will inflict the anguish I desire onto your mentality._

Another scene appeared. It was the Captains' quarters of a _Charon_-class light frigate. Nai was the age she was at the current time, and she was on her bed crying.

"_He-he-he doesn't lov-love me,_" The Captain cried to herself "_He-h-he doesn't lo-love me-me._"

"Captain," Timmys' avatar appeared on a holo-tank by the sealed door "Lieutenant Colonel Keyes is worried. And I can't say this from personal experience, but it's always better to cry with your best friend by your side."

The Captain let out a sniff and raised her head "_Okay,_ se-send for h-her."

098 noticed the Captains' hands were twitching uncontrollably.

"No need," Timmy replied "She's right outside your quarters, and she wasn't going to take no for an answer anyway. She just told me to ask you so she knew what type of mind you were in."

Timmys' avatar disappeared, and the Captain couldn't help but smile at Keyes' actions as the door opened with a hiss, and Keyes walked in and sat herself next to the Captain on her bed.

"Don't _ever _assume that I'll never be here for you," Keyes hugged the Captain "You should had called for me earlier."

The Captain let out a sniff before she began crying again "_This isn't like any other time, Lynda. I can- I can't handle this; I-I-I-I can't do this shit anymore._"

Keyes pulled the Captain closer and began to hold her closely as the Captain cried heavily "You're stronger than any of us on this ship; you _can _hold on," Keyes reassured the Captain as she held her tightly in a hug "And whether Red likes it or not... he _will _come around; no matter what ONI did to him, nothing will break that bond that you have always talked about."

_Irrelevant, irrelevant, irrelevant- You are beginning to panic... you do not want to see what you have done to her... you do not want to face the truth... the dark deep truth that you are false... you were never meant to created- Negative. Personal feelings irrelevant- Why? It is not a fact that you cannot defeat your foes while you have true emotions... It is the fact that you do not want to go back; you do not want to remember... Ah! But you do want to remember! Deep down you want to remember. But this... mental state is forbidding you from remembering...-Negative. Personal feelings are irrelevant- "Are"? You are breaking... your rhythm of speech is disintegrating. I only need to enact on one final effort to obliterate your false characteristics._

Scenes and images began to appear and disappear out of nowhere. Each scene and image lasted for only a moment, but 098 could see everything, could understand everything.

Nai was in constant pain... She gave up everything because of 098... her child, her love, her relationship, her friends... her life. She had suicidal thoughts regularly, and she hated everyone and everything because of her pain.

But now memories began to appear. And 098 saw his life before the SPARTAN II Program... he saw that he was a happy, energetic child. But he was quiet and shy... but he had Nai... Red had Nai.

_I'LL KILL HER! I'LL KILL HER! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY! HALSEY!_

Red could see again. He was a large circular chamber that was lit up by lights coming off of the engraved Forerunner walls and pillars. But in the middle of the chamber, there was a single light... the Index. Red was right near the Index; it was right there.

He still couldn't move any inch of his body. But he saw out of the side of his vision that there was Flood slime and sacks along with various other hive material going up behind him. And it didn't take Red long to figure out that he was being held up into a wall of Flood slime and matter by _slime_ and _matter_. And that Flood wall of _slime_ and _matter_ was the Gravemind.

_Alas! I have broken you!- I will not inform you of Earths' location- Fool! Have you not already learned? I know all that there has been, or is!_

More images flashed through Reds' mind. Everything that _had _happened and _was _happening came into his mind. No matter where in the Universe, Red could see it as clearly as day.

He could see that his SPARTAN brother and sisters were currently fighting on a planet, he saw the UNSC _Spirit of Fire _drifting in space, he saw Jorge quietly sit by himself as he mourned for Reds' disappearance and possible death, he saw the locations of each Covenant home-world, he saw the size of the Covenant fleets, and so, _so _much more.

Such abilities to see what Red was seeing should be impossible. But Red also saw what type of machinery the Gravemind had integrated itself with. And it wasn't all Forerunner machinery. There was an advanced alien artifact -more advanced than anything the Forerunners had created. And Red knew -through the Gravemind- what it was... Precursors...

_Now do you see the truth? The truth behind everything?- Affirmative. It's... It... I will engage and defeat you; I won't let you destroy us as you did the Forerunners- You believe you can defeat us? The Forerunners were a numerous race with advanced technology, and they stood together. Humanity is not numerous, with primitive technology, and they do not stand together. And to make matters against your already faulting odds, I can witness any plan to stop us designed and set in motion. I will learn, adapt, and rip the Universe asunder with minimal effort._

That all too familiar pain was still there. Red felt like he only knew the agonizing pain that seeped through his body. He wanted it to stop, he wanted to cry; not for himself, but for Nai.

_Do you want to know of this "Christinas'" fate?- Affirmative- she died of natural Human weaknesses but a mere two cycles ago.- She managed to escape the Covenant?- Yes. She proceeded to live against her pathetic limitations. And she proceeded to survive on Erde-Tyrene until she passed away from her pathetic life- Good.- You have hatred? Of course! I shall make you hate him- No need... Personal feelings and emotions are now relevant..._

_I already hate him..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [0934 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06.**

**Thel 'Lodam...**

* * *

><p>Thel hated these stupid gatherings.<p>

Everyone and everything was here. Thel, his men, the Human leaders, the Monitor, and the Monarch. And the future was about to be decided. But it wouldn't be decided when the Humans would not stop arguing among themselves.

The Humans were arguing about how they would escape, what would happen to the Demon and their Captain, what will happen once they got back to Earth. It was odd as to how very few of them realized that the answer would reveal itself if they would be silent.

Thel kept his arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. Anve, Freyn, and Suras were at his side, and Kri and the Unggoy were over at the Human "bar", watching the Humans argue in amusement.

_This is ridiculous. _"SILENCE!" Thel finally parted his mandibles and roared as loud as he could.

Everyone immediately stopped and looked at him. _This arguing explains a lot. _"No wonder we are winning this false war when all you do is argue among yourselves like fools," Thel hissed through his gritted mandibles "Now, shut up and let the Monarch and the Monitor speak."

Nobody decided to continue, and they all remained silent as they turned to look at the floating orbs.

The Monarch decided to begin first "A popular argument I have had the displeasure of hearing _(Good, it is blunt about its' annoyance as-well) _is argument about who is now in command of this ship when the Captain is in her 'state of pain'. And from what I have researched by hacking into your Data-streams, the Reclaimer designated: Commander Juan Cortez should take command. But I also understand that there is an agent belonging to the Reclaimers' intelligence and secret services known as ONI. And that agent has the authority to take command of this ship and its' Reclaimer crew if the designated Reclaimer needs to."

"I see no reason why I must take command," The Human named Rhine stated "So that means Commander Cortez is know the Commanding Officer of the UNSC _Kryptonite_."

Thel had to clicked his mandibles in annoyance at this topic "Now that this argument is cleared through, can we get back to the topic of leaving this dreaded ring and ending the fake war?"

"Yes," The Monitor said this time "I have engaged in designing a plan to assist the Reclaimers in their priority task. The plan will also destroy the Flood on this Installation... along with this Installation itself."

Thel cocked his head in puzzlement. _Curious... Halos' destruction is a priority as much as stopping the fake war._

"How?" The Human named Lynda questioned the Monitor in a curious tone. _Be silent and it shall reveal its' plan! You Humans are so foolish! _Thel simply rolled his eyes, and thanked the fact that he wore his helmet so no-one nor nothing could see his displeasure and annoyance.

"Allow me to elaborate, Reclaimer," The Monitor began "The quarantine zone around the Library has failed; Flood forces are spreading across this Installation at an alarming rate. But in-case the Flood contained on this Installation escapes from their designated containment facilities, and all other protocols fail, one final fail-safe remains. Upon my activation, a gravity well device build into this systems' artificial sun will pull this Installation into the designated artificial sun, effectively destroying all life forms on this Installation."

"I assume we ain't gonna be here when that happens?" Lynda questioned the Monitor.

_Of course we will not be here; let it finish. _"Of course not, Reclaimer," The Monitor reassured them "I still have engaged in designing a plan to assist you, Reclaimers. After I have finished briefing you on my plan, I shall make haste to use the Seer on your ship, Reclaimers. Once I have confirmed that your ship is devoid of Flood Spores, of Forms, I shall lower the anti-gravity well for ten minutes _(Moments) _for you to leave this Installation."

"What about the Covenant ships?" Lynda questioned the Monitor. _Let it finish, damn it. _"The ships on the ring will try to escape once the well is deactivated, and the ships in space will engage us once we leave Halos' atmosphere."

"Allow me to finish, Reclaimer," The Monitor replied. _Yes, allow it. _"Now, I will activate this Installations' defensive weapons grid, which will effectively destroy all Meddler ships outside this Installations' atmosphere. _(Gods blood! All the blinded that shall fall over this! This cannot be the only way!)_ And if any Meddler ships attempt to leave this Installation when the anti-gravity well is deactivated, they will be engaged and destroyed by the this Installations' defensive weapons grid as-well -thus eliminating any potential for them escaping with Flood Spores or Forms aboard their ships. _(They will die anyway)_."

There was no other way, so Thel decided not to protest. His men must had figured this out as-well, for they did not protest. But Thel could still see them uncomfortable over the idea; he would be sure to reassure them at a later time.

"Once your ten minutes _(Moments) _are up, the anti-gravity well will be reactivated, and this I shall initiate the fail-safe protocol."

"Are you staying on the ring?" Juan asked the Monitor in a concerned tone.

_A valid_ _point_. "No, Reclaimer," The Monitor reassured them "I can control both the fail-safe protocol, and the anti-gravity well through a network grid. I will leave this Installations' atmosphere once the anti-gravity well is deactivated before I initiate the fail-safe protocols."

"What about after that?" Juan asked the Monitor. _Another valid point. _"Will you be stuck in this system or something?"

"I have the function to traverse through the denial of locale _(The Void)_ if protocol dictates it. Once this Installation is destroyed, I shall return to the Ark to oversee the construction of a new Installation 06."

_A new one? "Another one?_" Lynda questioned the Monitor in an alarmed tone "What if the Covenant come across this ring again?"

"Fear not, Reclaimer," The Monitor reassured them "As soon as the new Installation 06 -designated: Installation 06B- is in position, I shall activate this Installations' defensive weapons grid and anti-gravity well to prevent any Meddlers from making physical contact with this Installation again -unless the Reclaimers dictate otherwise."

"Be it a sin on me to interrupt," The Human called Wade -that Thel disliked due to it always watching him and his men- broke in "but I believe it necessary to redirect this briefing to the topic on how the _Kryptonite _will leave the all-service tunnel without being engaged and destroyed by the Covenant ships that are without a doubt waiting outside the sealed entrance for us."

_At least it is smart. And it has a welcomed advanced vocabulary. _"I can confirm that the Meddlers have some of their ships waiting outside the nearby exit to this all-service tunnel," The Monitor began "And there is no room for your designated ship to turn around, anyway. So I deemed it required for your designated ship to continue down the all-service tunnel until your designated ship reaches another designated exit to the all-service tunnels -a exit that shall be safe from the Meddlers' ships. But there is a flaw with this objective: the size of your designated ship will slow the process of moving through the tunnel to a safe designated exit from the average time of seven hours, twenty minutes, and nineteen seconds to two days, two hours, forty-eight minutes, and forteen seconds."

_That is a long time... and there will be many unneeded casualties in that time. _"That's too long," Lynda grunted in annoyance "can't you just have your 'defensive weapons grid' _thingy_ destroy the ships outside the entrance up there?"

_I already understand the Monitors' inevitable answer _"Impossible, Reclaimer," The Monitor replied. _As I theorized. _"I am 100 percent certain that the rubble from the ships will damage the designated entrance to the all-service tunnels. And this designated ship is too large to turn about; you have no choice but to continue to a junction, Reclaimers, which is the designated location you must proceed to."

"Wait," Anve broke in with a click of his mandibles in unison "what of the portal the Demon arrived to this ring by?"

_A topic that has not been brought up yet. How could we go so long with no mention of this?_

"Damn," Lynda muttered "why the hell is this being brought up _now_?" _Exactly._

"The portals' activation was not within my control," The Monitor began "But I can deactivate the portal if protocol dictates it. And I have deactivated the portal via widespread containment protocol -only to be followed if the Flood break out of the quarantine zone- 6 hours, 9 minutes, and 24 seconds ago -and counting.

"No possible escape for the Fleet-Master," Anve rubbed his lower mandibles. _So that is why this question was bought to light. _"he does not deserve his inevitable fate; no member of the Covenant -other than the Jiralhanae and Pity- deserve to die not knowing the truth."

Thel calmly walked over to Anve and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder "Brother," Thel began "the risks for trying to warn the Fleet-Master are to great to risk the possible only chance we have to stop this fake war; many more of the blind will die unless these sacrifices are made."

Anve lightly nodded his head in sadness.

When no one else spoke, Juan clapped its hands together in conclusion "So, you scan us with the Seer, we continue down the tunnel until we come across _this_ _exit_, we leave the tunnel once you deactivate the anti-gravity well, we leave the atmosphere and watch as this shit-hole is burned to Oblivion, and we then enter random slipspace vectors, arrive at those vectors, then head back to Earth with the Monarch and the Diverted. We get back, and we end the war -easy."

_If you have just jinxed it, I shall personally tear you apart..._


	22. The Pain of Memories

**November 8, 2547 [1002 Hours] Human Military Calendar.**

**Outside UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Medical bay, Installation 06.**

**Thel 'Lodam...**

* * *

><p>Thel knew sound could tell a person how much pain someone or something was in. And there was no difference with the Human Ship-Mistress.<p>

Thel had killed hundreds of Humans. But no amount of dying screams nor pained screams could ever add up together to outdo the screams of the Human Ship-Mistress. They were pains of deep, agonizing torture. And not even the Humans deserved such pain that Thel imagined was being inflicted upon the Demon -and somehow was also being inflicted onto the Human Ship-Mistress.

The doors to the medical bay hissed open, and Lynda calmly walked out with the screams of her Ship-Mistress coming from behind her. Thel could see a hint of a tear in the Lyndas' eyes.

The doors hissed as they sealed again, and Thel snaked his head around to face the Human called 'White' who was standing next to Thel, and had also escorted Thel here without telling him what he desired "What is the reason of my presence here?" Thel clicked his mandibles in question at White with White turning its' head around to face him before turning its' head back around to face Lynda a moment later. And it was Lynda who answered "White doesn't know himself; I just told him to fetch you. As to why you're here: we need your help."

(_How ironic)_ "I have only agreed to help you in ending this fake war -which benefits both of our kin," Thel calmly clicked his mandibles in reminder "But I have no intention on assisting you further -unless it is required for surviving on this ring, or helping you in ending this war." Lynda had a defeated look appear across her ugly Human face "This is _personal_."

(_Then I shall not help you)_ "I do not care." Thel clicked his mandibles in an indifferent reply with him about to turn around to walk away when Lynda halted him with its' words "Ever heard of the term 'a favor for a favor'?" She asked Thel with him cocking his head in puzzlement. (_I am not familiarized with Human terms)_ "No." Thel shook his head in reply with Lynda beginning to pace as she began to explain

"_I can't_ _believe I have to explain this_," Lynda chuckled. (_Get to the point) _Lynda then continued after a moment "You do a favor for me, and I'll do a favor for _you_ in return."

Upon hearing this, Thel let out a light chuckle. (_I have no task or objective that I cannot complete myself)_ "I have no reason to have someone or _something_ do a favor for me." Thel informed Lynda with it ending its' pacing and turning its' head to look at Thel before it opened her mouth to speak "We _really_ need your help."

This took Thel aback. (_Perhaps I should heed what this female speak. It could be what I believe it is)_ Thel nodded for her to continue with a small grin appearing at the side of its' small mouth before it began pacing again

"What medical supplies we have aren't effective enough at easing the Captains' pain," Lynda began with it gesturing with its' hands as it explained "But the Huragok -through translation by the Monarch- has informed us of a plant that will ease her pain. _(So why do you need my help?) _The Monarch itself has confirmed that this plant was used by the Forerunners to combat pain inflicted by the Flood taking control of someone. _(Because the could not simply kill that someone; they had to attempt to save him. I theorize that this did not help with stopping the Flood)_ Now, we _can_ go get this plant _ourselves_... (But?) but your Elite _(Sangheili) _buddies were overheard by Timmy talking about a Sangheili Spec Ops team that will likely track us if we leave the all-service tunnels. And we'll need _your _help in fighting against i- him if we come into contact with him."

Thel nodded in understanding at what Lynda had said. _(Qrs 'Jaragsai. He will most certainly come after you. And there is zero chance that you will survive the encounter. But me, Anve, Freyn, and Suras -with our reinforced energy shields- may be able to defeat Qrs and his team if I cannot convince them of the Prophets' lies)_ Thel began to pace -with White moving out-of-the-way so he could pace- once Lynda had stopped pacing. And once Thel had began pacing, he cocked his head down in-front of himself to muse as he prepared to speak _(They were smart to seek my help)_

"I shall help," Thel announced with him seeing a grin of success appearing on Lyndas' face out of the corner of his eye, but Thel quickly stopped pacing and turned around to raise his hand for her to let him continue "but only because the contacting of Qrs may come out of this -which is a great desire of mine." He concluded with Lynda letting out a breath of relief before she raised her head to look at Thel "If you do require something, _anything_... just tell me, _okay_?" She told him with Thel nodding his head in acknowledgement. _(Though, I do not believe such an event will take place where I will need your help)_

With Thels' mind made up, he was about to turn around and leave when White spoke up "Ma'am, requesting permission to take command of Fireteam Wreckage and lead this mission." Thel cocked his head down to his side to look at White who was staring into the distance and standing to attention.

Lynda replied with "Request granted." And White nodded in acknowledgement before turning his body around and making his way down the corridor. _(I have questions I have means to bring up with that one) _Thel cocked his head around to watch White make his way down the corridor before deciding to follow the Human.

The Human ship architecture was very primitive compared to Covenant ship architecture. The pumps, wires, and tubes that made the ship run and transfer power throughout the ship was visible through the strange metal walls. The floor was also very strange, with grating covering the floor; and visible through the grating was more pipes and machinery that made the ship run. And the machinery under the floor was also accessible via service stars that came off to the side of the walkway that served as the corridors' floor. But there was a lot of room required for the staircase, and hence there was a large gap between the walkway and the wall. And to make sure that no-one fell down that gap, the Humans decided to put railings at the edge of the walkway where the gap began.

Thel finished observing the primitive design, and noticed that he had caught up to White with the Human turning its' head when it heard Thel approach it before turning its' head back around once it knew who was following it with Thel positioning himself to the Humans' side, and they both continued walk for a moment until Thel slightly parted his mandibles to speak "We were not informed of the time this mission shall take place."

White did not bother turning his head, and simply continued walking down the corridor with Thel as it opened its' mouth to speak "I'm not sure how your mission planning goes, but ours' is complicated to some extend." _(Do tell_)Thel nodded his head in understanding just as they turned around a corner and continued down the corridor with White continuing "Colonel Keyes will likely have to discuss the mission plan with Timmy and the other COs before she has Timmy inform us on the set time for the mission; that's at least what usually happens... things can change, ya know."

_(I do know change... more than you will ever comprehend the word)_ Thel did not speak his mind, and simply nodded in acknowledgement as they went around another corner. _(I am curious as to why you decided to lead the mission yourself) _Thel slightly parted his mandibles to speak again "Did you ask to lead this mission on a personal side?"

White did not respond for a moment, but he eventually did -much to Thels' relief "The Captain's done a lot for us..." White began "and she'll never ask for anything in return. But it doesn't hurt to return the gratitude every now and again -and that's what I'm doing here. And I think Colonel Keyes knows this..." They turned round another corner as White continued "that's why she agreed to my request; that, or she doesn't trust anyone else to handle such a delicate task."

_(I cannot believe I am going to ask it this) _Thel clicked his mandibles in annoyance at himself as he cocked his head to look at White as they continued walking "Does the 'lieutenant Colonel' care for your Ship-Mistress?" Thel clicked his mandibles in question. _(Why am I bothered by this? I care not for the Humans)_

White slightly turned its' head to peer at Thel in puzzlement before turning it back around straight and opening its' mouth to speak "Keyes is the Captains' closest and only friend. _(No, no. I do not care) _I envy their relationship-"Thel quickly interrupted White "Enough! I am traversing on a ground that I do not desire to." Thel turned off at a junction in the corridors and made his way to the lounge with White saying "_Okay..._" in a confused tone as Thel distanced himself.

Thel continued down the corridor until he came to another junction with two Humans talking who stopped talking and watched Thel as he made a turn down another corridor that led to the lounge the rest of the Diverted were gathered at. _(That was foolish of me. I do not care for the Humans' miserable existence. That Human had better not mention of my false curiosity)_

Thel shook his head as he continued down the corridor and arrived at the entrance to the lounge. Thankfully, there were no doors blocking off the lounge to the corridors. So Thel could just enter the room without waiting. Which he did and to have Freyn, Suras, Kri, and half the Unggoy turn to see who they heard enter and quickly turned their attention back to what they were doing once they knew who they had heard.

Thel nodded in greeting to those who were still looking at him as he made his way to one of the Human wide-seats and seated himself next to Freyn who was modifying his carbine with some enhancements the Huragok gave him.

Freyn was doing a lot better since it seemed that his arm was healed for he no longer had it wrapped up along his chest. Thel would make sure that injuries like this wouldn't happen again. And he started with making the Huragok reinforce their shields with some modifying. And Thel had tested it: the shields would survive against three to four blasts from a Human "Shotgun" before they would fail. And the Huragok still claimed -through the Monarchs' translations- that it could do better with the right resources.

"Why did they call you away, brother?" Anve finally clicked his mandibles in question at Thel with Thel cocking his head around to face Anve who was leaning in a corner to the left of the large window, next to the Human bar. Thel clicked his mandibles in reply "They require our help."

Anve chuckled upon hearing this "I assume your reply was less than-" Thel quickly interrupted him _(Forgive me for the disappointment I am about to inflict)_ "I accepted their request, brother." Thel clicked his mandibles in explanation with Freyn, Suras, and Kri now snapping their heads around to face Thel in attention. And Thel wasted no time in explaining "They believe that Qrs 'Jaragsai may track them once they leave the tunnels to go after a herb that will help their pain stricken Captain," Thel explained "and they want _our_ help in combating Qrs and his team if they go after them."

"This could be to our advantage." Suras observed with Thel cocking his head around to face Suras before replying "Very much so, brother. We may be able to save the Fleet-Master and the fleet from certain death."

"And the _Prophets' neck_ between out _grasp_ by the rotations' end." Freyn added with a hiss to have Thel cock his head around to face him only to see a grin being formed by his mandibles with Thel also seeing Anve and Suras grinning at the thought as-well out of the edge of his eyes.

_(Vengeance shall finally be ours) _Thels' Diverted may not be able to see it because of Thels' helmet, but Thel was finally forming his mandibles into a smile for the first time in a long, long while.

Thel was happy.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1012 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Medical bay, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>Pain was all Courtney currently knew... and it felt like it was all she ever knew.<p>

A deep, sharp, agonizing pain went through her body. She felt like her bones were being crushed to smithereens, every inch of her body being torn apart, a fire burning near on her organs, her body being put through a saw, her limbs being contorted to impossible angles, and -worse of all- a million nukes going off in her head. It was all the pain a person could feel in one single attack... an attack on the mind and nerves.

All Courtney did in response was scream, cry, and coil her body up into a fetus like position. And all the Morphine and/or painkillers the medics and doctors gave her didn't ease the pain. And it didn't seem like anything ever would.

Courtney desperately tried to shift her focus off the pain. But nothing would work. But there was one thing that eased the pain to some extent. And that was memory. She kept remembering each and every member of her crew, their personalities, their flaws. And it relieved her -if only slightly- to think about those she would die for.

Second Lieutenant George Parker. He was a typical Marine. But he was normally very quiet. That was until the Monarch had told them about the Covenant and their _'mistake' _where he immediately broke down and began crying in-front of everyone at the meeting. He was one of the survivors of the first contact with the Covenant on _Harvest_. And he had fought for so long, and lost so much during the war. And hearing this news made him less quiet and more angry. But he was loyal. Courtney remembered when she felt that pain go across her chest -that Red received from a Zealot energy sword moments before he went through the portal- and where Parker ran to her and carried her to the medic bay while reassuring her that she'd be alright.

Through all the pain, Courtney smiled at the memory.

Then there was Major Adam Franti. He was a beast of a man, large, strong, and handsome. But he was aggressive, always yelling at his team members, always being aggressive to them. He was also aggressive to others. But when it came to missions, the aggressive side of Adam was nowhere to be seen. And he was calm, loyal, cooperative, and effective. He was one of the best ODSTs Courtney knew. And despite is aggressive nature that must of originated from the black ink on his file, he was a loyal soldier. And so was the rest of Fireteam Night.

She also remembered Sergeant Major Wade Tulnai. He was deadly quiet. And his voice was devoid of emotion. Courtney remembered the briefings she would give to Fireteam Absolute, and how Wade would just stand silently in a corner and only spoke when he was asked a question, or he had to divert the briefing back to a important topic that had been skipped. That was Wades' personality: he was quiet, but emotionless. And Courtney had seen combat logs of him taking down an entire Covenant Lance by himself back on _Atmosus_. Courtney promised herself that she would make sure he got a medal for his combat efficiency. But she was also scared of what he might do to the Diverted. It was as if Karma had a personal agenda against Wade; he his first family, had and lost a second, and had and lost a third. He was a broken man. And there was already a report that Wade had been watching 'Lodam and its' men in the shadows.

Courtney needed to go back to normal. She needed to speak to Wade before he acted out with cold revenge, and ruined their chances of ending the war with the blinding emotion.

Courtney let out a scream. She needed to speak to Wade!

But she calmed herself down with the thought of Lance Corporal Brian Davis likely being on the bed beside her, watching over her. She wanted to apologize to Davis, because whether she liked the fact or not, she found his jokes funny. They were creative, and smart. And she always acted out as if she hated him for them. But that wasn't the fact. She remembered yesterday when the Monarch hacked and turned on her personal COM connection with Fireteam Solitude right on time to have Cross get caught up in a joke. She may not had laughed at the present time, but she went along with the joke -discreetly- and laughed about it in private later. And fortunately, Davis was one of the rare members of the crew that had not lost anything from the war. He grew up on Earth... but even Earth would fall unless they got back.

She didn't show her respect for Davis. Just like she didn't show her respect for Timmy.

Courtney often spoke to Timmy as if he was annoying -which he was at times. But it might had been better if Timmy selected a different personality. With this bland one, he just seemed so... _annoying_. But it wasn't Timmy, it was her. And Timmy needed to know that. Timmy needed to know that Courtney respected his blunt arse. Timmy was not flawed, he had too many ups! He was always direct, always went straight to the point, never questioned Courtney, never joked nor was he sarcastic, and he was loyal. Courtney could not think of any way Timmy could betray her.

Thinking of loyalty bought up Lynda -Courtneys' most closest and trusted friend.

Lynda and Courtney were indebted to each other; they had saved each other in more ways than one numerous times. And it started when Courtney saved Lyndas' marriage.

Courtney could remember that day as clear as any memory she had from the previous day. She had just arrived to Earth with her parents after escaping Arcadia. The UNSC ship that gave them passage from Arcadia to Earth landed on the outskirts of New York City. And while her parents were resting and being tended to at a hospitable, Courtney decided to hit a nearby night-club.

After dancing for non stop all night and drinking plenty of serves; but not enough to make her drunk, Courtney was finally about to head back to the hospitable, and was just finishing up a friendly conversation with a friendly Marine that served on the same ship that helped them get to Earth when a young and drunk Lynda appeared out of nowhere.

Lynda began chatting the Marine up, and began flirting with him. Courtney just though nothing of it, and got her handbag and hopped off of her bar-stool when Lynda began waving her hand in the air for the bar-keeper to gt her a drink, and Courtney suddenly noticed the wedding ring on Lyndas' finger. Knowing where this might head, Courtney needed to stop the drunk and _horny _Lynda before she got herself into trouble.

"Excuse me," Courtney broke in as Lynda began to ease herself onto the Marines' lap with Lynda and the Marine turning their heads to look at her "I don't think you should do what you're about to do."

Lynda narrowed her drunken eyes "_Yah? and what hat?" _Lynda slurred as she almost fell off the Marines' lap but was saved when the Marine caught her and eased her back onto his lap. Courtney rolled her eyes at the scene before replying "Flirting with _good 'ole_ Patrick here; I doubt your husband will approve."

Lynda almost fell of the Marines' lap again, but was helped back up by the Marine before she began slurring again "_What he doughnut know won't kill em_" The Marine chuckled at this. But Courtney just rolled her eyes again before replying with "You're drunk. Whatever you do tonight you _will_ regret tomorrow. And trust me: regret ain't a nice feeling."

Lynda burped before replying "_you don't no shit,_" Lynda slurred"_cause, you doughnut no how to shit_." The Marine began laughing as he carefully pushed Lynda off of his lap "I'm married _myself_. So... yea." The Marine stated before he hopped up from his bar-stool and began making his way over to a women that was watching them before he kissed her and walked to a booth with her.

Lynda watched all this happen before snapping her head around to stare angrily at Courtney "_You hat two go and ruined ever thing._" Lynda slurred with Courtney grinning before asking her "Where do you live?" Lynda let out a chuckle with no humor before replying "_I life up the ass bum of a dwoople of diddly blobbly guys at beach -least, I tink tit were beach_."

"Room-089, Hestribute tower." The bar-keeper broke in to have Courtney turn her head to face him "Thanks." Courtney nodded in respect at the bar-keeper with him nodding back before she grabbed Lyndas' arm and began to lead her out of the bar.

Courtney went back to the hospitable after helping Lynda back to her apartment -but not before her husband told her to leave her chatters' number because "Lynda may be drunk now, but she'll be grateful tomorrow" which Courtney did. And much to her surprise, she got a call from Lynda on her chatter asking her if she wanted to meet up so Lynda could properly thank her. Courtney agreed, and they became quick friends after that coffee. And not long after becoming friends, Lynda decided to join the Marine Corp to help fight the Covenant -Courtney telling her about the events on Arcadia may had driven her to decide that as-well.

But not long after meeting Lynda and becoming her friend, Courtney was called to duty aboard the UNSC _Lancelot _until she rose the ranks and got reassigned to multiple different vessels. In the meantime, Lynda was proving to be an effective Marine. And through their constant communications they maintain with each other, when Courtney finally became Captain of the _Kryptonite_, she requested to have Lynda serve aboard. The request was almost denied since Lynda was such a valuable asset to the fleet that she was serving in. But they eventually gave in once Courtney convinced them to let the _Kryptonite _be reassigned to that fleet. They finally ended up together again two years before the _Kryptonite _was assigned by ONI and FLEETCOM to go after Red and the Diverted.

Courtney smiled at the memory -the only time she had smile since the pain started. But the happy thought also bought about the painful thought. Her child, Eric. It seemed so odd at the time. Eric was the sweetest and shyest boy she knew. And during the final hour of the ball, when she had finally let her hormones take control, she wanted him -not for his handsome looks, but for his sweet personality. And her parents had also cleared the house of their presence in-case she bought a boy home -which she _claimed _she wouldn't'.

But after arriving back home to her room, after letting her hormones let her fall in love, she remembered her promise to never be happy until she found Red. And she pushed Eric away. And it was at that time, Eric became a monster. He forced his way onto her, sneered and slobbered over her body. And the shocking realization came to Courtney... people were never what they seemed.

Courtneys' father almost killed Eric who stupidly decided to stay longer than he should have, cuddling up to the broken Courtney as she laid there. But when Courtney heard the car enter the garage, she screamed for help.

Though luckily, Eric survived her fathers' wrath. But he also managed to survive the Covenant. And now, only God knew where he was.

And he left a curse on Courtney... He left her pregnant. And -much to her parents dismay- she would not have the child; she would not be happy. She was, of course, not getting an abortion over the child being Erics'; she was getting an abortion because of Red.

And now, ONI would burn; they would burn for taking Red away from her. Those moments each night when they cuddled each other in bed, when they where fully one with each other, those were the moments Courtney was the most happiest in her life. And she lost those moments. And Courtney began crying at the memory -not pain. She screamed at the fucked up race called Humanity that took her brother from her. And she made a decision.

If the pain stopped... if she could command the _Kryptonite _again... they weren't going back to _Earth_.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1023 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Inside The Library, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"What are you?" The Gravemind asked.<p>

It didn't take long after Red broke for the Gravemind to begin speaking to him directly -not through his mind. It was better since a shock-wave of pain went through Reds' head whenever the Gravemind spoke to him through his mind. The Gravemind also released some control of Reds' body so he could reply to any of the Graveminds' questions. Unfortunately, every-time he moved his mouth, pain went through his body. So he would often talk to the Gravemind via thinking -which the Gravemind found amusing.

_(I'll indulge you) _"I am a monument to all my sins." Red finally replied with pain washing over his body as he spoke each word.

The Graveminds' booming laughter filled Reds' ears. Out of all the personalities that the Gravemind had used, this one was its' worse. Its' best -if it could be called "The best" was its' calmer personality in which it regularly speaks in Trochee and other poetic ways. But that personality seemed gone. All that remained was the one that was _dead-set_ on turning Red over to the Flood with as much pain as it could cause.

"You will 'indulge' _me?_" The Gravemind asked him in its deep, cold, emotionless voice "You spoke what spoke because I made you speak so. Do not believe for a moment that you, food, have control over this form. Everything you ever will say or do is directed by me."

_(Thinking?) _The Graveminds' deep voice let out another booming laugh at this before it replied "I do not control your pathetic, weak mind -yet." More booming laughter echoed through the room and Reds' ears.

The visions of images and scenes started to come less frequently until they stopped coming. The Gravemind was now torturing Red until it decided to give up, and make him a Combat Form or something. That was at least what Red thought. And the Gravemind would simply laugh at the thought but not bring his fate up. So perhaps the Gravemind had other plans.

"A memory continues to present itself to me," The Gravemind said out of the blue "and I wish to engage in a conversation regarding it." _(Do I have a choice?)_ The Gravemind let out another booming laugh before replying "No, you do not."

The memory played out. It was actually several memories of Red laying with Nai in bed at night. The memories that Red felt most sad about remembering. The Gravemind likely knew this, and it was possible it was bringing this memory up only to torture Red further.

The Graveminds' deep voice then boomed "What is the reason behind these 'touching' memories?" _(There was always a warm feeling when we were close together. I can't really explain the reason behind it... but it was comforting to be so close to her. And she felt the same way. Contrary to what Christina thought, it was not incest. But it was not brotherly or sisterly love either. It was something deeper... I can't comprehend it. But every night we would claw into each others' beds and sleep with each other. And we both had the same dreams)_

The Graveminds' laughter boomed in Reds' ears "You were one." _(A statement -not a question) _"Observant." The Gravemind laughed in its' deep voice in reply to Reds' thought.

_(My parents didn't think it was incest, though. They thought it was odd, but cute. It starting happening when we were finally given beds at the age of four. So it was impossible for it to be incest at such a young age. But Christina thought it was incest because she was stupid to live) _The Gravemind let out another booming laugh "You _believe _in that term? Were it not one of your functions to not judge?" _(098s' function -not mine. I was long gone before the mental indoctrination got worse enough that my Humanity was taken away from me)_

Red felt himself move. It was odd: more and more of the Gravemind was becoming visible out of the side of his vision. But then it hit him _(I am being bought back) _The Graveminds' booming laughed was its' reply. Red... was sinking into the Graveminds' flesh. And the Gravemind must had heard Reds' thoughts, because it suddenly said "Soon, we shall be one whole, one being, one form. No, I think not. This is not your grave; I am but welcoming you in it."

_(My fate?) _The Graveminds' deep, booming voice answered almost immediately -which was odd of it since it usually laughed or something like that "Soon to be unraveled. But, if you desire to know a hint -all desire a hint. Infiltration."

Unlike the Gravemind, Red could not see everything that _had_ happened, or _was_ happening unless the Gravemind showed it to him. But Red did see something the Gravemind suddenly showed him. And he at first thought it was an Elite... but it was something else. _(What is this?) _The Gravemind -again- didn't laugh, and immediately answered "Your saviors... guardians..." Red saw something scurrying in the dark corners of a large hallway that seemed to be in the Library. Hundreds of Combat Forms lay dead in the hallway as the creatures continued down the hallway, in the shadows.

The Gravemind suddenly decided to laugh in its' deep voice "They desire to save you... but they will only set you on the path to the anguish of all."

The scene faded away, and all Red could see was the dark chamber with the various lights, and the Index "That which you desire," The Gravemind began as one of its' long tentacles appeared out of the side of Reds' view, and reached over to the Index that was floating in the air over a circular hole "is but dust and echoes." The Graveminds' tentacle circled around the Index until it held it, and it then pulled its' tentacle hardly, shattering the Index into millions of bits of dust and particles.

_(The Index is irrelevant) _The Gravemind let out a booming laugh at this before responding "Agreed, it is." As soon as the Gravemind said this, a scene suddenly appeared. Red saw what looked like the crew of the _Kryptonite _and the Diverted gathered in the officers' lounge. They were discussing something. And it didn't take long for Red to figure out that they were discussing plans to leave Halo, and destroy it "No attempts to stop this will be made," The Gravemind announced in its' booming voice "for this rings' destruction, and you returning back to _Erde-Tyrene _is what I desire."

_(And your elimination?) _The Gravemind let out a booming laugh before replying "My defeat shall not matter... Humanity will be turned into food from the inside-out. A defeat brought about by none other than you, food." _(I take it you're not gonna elaborate?) _The Gravemind let out another deep laugh before replying "No."

A scene suddenly came into play. Red was on Reach... in that city. It play out how he remembered it... he killed everyone; the animals, the family, the friends. And he waited for the police to turn up, and they were they shocked when they saw him; in-fact, they at first believed him to be a survivor.

"Do you regret this action?" The Gravemind suddenly asked him in its' deep voice. _(Affirmative. It created 098. I was weak, I was... stupid. I acted out of hatred... and that made me weak. I wanted to become a machine to spite Halsey... but I lost everything because of that) _"You would have lost everything even if you did not act like this." The Gravemind stated.

_(Can you do me a favor?) _"Depends?" The Gravemind replied "But do go on." _(Wait... Negative; you want me alive for something) _"Where you going to ask me to finish you?" The Gravemind questioned him in its' deep voice. _(Affirmative. A moment of foolishness; I momentarily forgot that you don't want me dead) _The Gravemind let out a booming laugh in reply, but didn't continue.

Red guessed that he had been a captive of the Gravemind for less than a day. But it felt like he had been a captive for an eternity. Time... didn't seem to exist there. And the pain was endless. Red, of course, wouldn't scream if he even could. But he would cry instead. The pain was blinding, deafening. It would had been worse if he had not been sharing it with Courtney. But he wish that was the case; he didn't want Courtney to feel what he was feeling.

"Soon, she shall be with you again," The Gravemind suddenly said, hearing Reds' thought "She shall be with us all. This pain, will be her only feeling; her only emotion." _(You will be engaged and defeated) _The Gravemind laughed at that "I have planned your demise for the numerous cycles we have been in the dark. There is no thing in the Universe that will stop us."

_(There is one) _much against the pain that was telling him not to, Red remembered John-117. He remembered his most greatest -but feared- memory of John. The memory of John at his strongest. But also at his weakest.

2545, _New Albany_, _Draco III_. Every civilian living on the planet was rounded up into the single city, and promptly massacred by Covenant forces. Unfortunately for the Covenant, a large amount of SPARTANs were watching the massacre via satellite uplink, and they weren't happy about what they saw.

The Covenant fleet -that only consisted of at least a dozen ships- was already scattered due to the naval engagement over the planet. And due to the UNSCs' increasing presence, the Covenant fleet was doomed. But there was still the ground-forces that massacred the civilians, so -much to the SPARTAN IIs' pleasure- CENTCOM gave the order for the SPARTANs to deploy via several D77-TC Pelicans to eliminate all surviving ground-forces while the fleet was finished off.

Due to the many fronts the war was being fought on, not all SPARTANs were redeployed to _Draco III. _But there was still plenty enough for the Covenant ground-forces to be eliminated with no friendly casualties.

It was Blue Team that was redeployed to _Draco III _to combat the Covenant invasion. And Red -who was always reassigned from Green Team to Blue Team- was one of the members along with John-117 -who was always the leader of Blue Team- Carris-137,William-043 -or Will-043- Kelly-087, James-005, , Jorge-052, Cal-141, Joseph-122, and Linda-058. Currently Green Team had been temporarily dissolved so more SPARTANs could be operational on _Draco III._ So all members of Green Team had been temporarily reassigned to Blue Team.

The SPARTANs were each given a M808B Scorpion that they would use to make their way through the streets of _New Albany _to desecrate the Covenant ground-forces. And the ground-forces _were_ massacred. And while the rest of Blue Team was finishing off the ground-forces around the city with their Scorpions, Alpha-Blue Team -consisting of John, Red, and James- had just arrived at the gravity lift leading into a CCS-class battlecruisers' bowls. The cruiser was acting as EVAC for the ground-forces, and after finding our that they didn't make it in time to save any civilians, John was determined not to let a single Covenant soldier to leave the planet. That meant the cruiser had to be destroyed.

Surprisingly, the Gravemind made no attempt to stop Red from remembering the events of that day. In-fact, the Gravemind actually enhanced it so it was more focused and clear, and made the memory feel more like a scene playing in his head. The Gravemind must had been curious about what could possibly defeat it.

The corpses of mangled Brute, Grunt, and Jackal bodies surrounded the gravity lifts' base. And Red fired a single 90mm tungsten Armor Piercing Ballistic Capped Round from the Scorpions' M512 cannon which split apart the final Brute lance, shredding the several Grunts, two Brutes, and two Jackals into a mess of flesh, limbs, and guts.

"Sierra-098 reporting Standard Brute Lance-068 eliminated. All contacts eliminated." Red reported over Alpha-Blue Teams' TEAMCOM with John replying "Red, this is Chief. rendezvous on my position ASAP."

Red blinked his green acknowledgement light and began to shift the gears so the Scorpion began turning around.

"Chief," Kelly said over the TACCOM as Red had fully turned his Scorpion around, and was moving it towards James and Johns' Scorpions "This is Kelly. The Covenant ground-forces in our vicinity have been eliminated. requesting new orders."

"Kelly," John responded "get to the EVAC zone. We'll join you soon." Kellys' green acknowledgement light blinked once to signal that she understood her orders.

"Chief, how are we gonna take this thing down?" James questioned John over the TEAMCOM.

"I'm going to take the Scorpion inside the cruiser." John replied in his gruff voice with no emotion but anger over the Covenants' massacred of the civilian population. John seemed... _"Unhinged" _by what had happened. And he had displayed emotions that none of the SPARTANs had seen him display since he was much younger. In-fact, due to their limited memory of being six, it was like this was the first time they had seen John like this. And it was scary.

"Chief," James quickly interjected over the COM "I don't think the architect of the gravity lifts' base won't-" James didn't get to finish before John spun the Scorpions' turret around, and blew one of the spire barricades built into the gravity lifts' base apart, making room for the Scorpion to move onto it.

Red decided to interject himself as John began moving his Scorpion onto the gravity lifts' base "Sierra-117, survival probability: ten percent." John wasted no time in replying with "Those odds are good enough." as he finished positioning his Scorpion onto the gravity lifts' base.

Red wasted no time in interjecting again "Personal emotions irrelevant. Elimination probability: ninety percent. Recommend disengagement of irrelevant, own designed objective."

"Relax, I'll have enough of time to jump out of the hole I'm going to make in the hull before the cruiser crashes, and I have a plan of reaching the ground safely." John reassured Red with Red finally giving up protesting, and blinking his green acknowledgement light

"Captain, this is Sierra-117," John said over the secure COM channel with the UNSC _Hexagon_ "permission for insertion-" The Captain obviously overheard Johns' plans on his connection with the TACCOM and the splinter teams' TEAMCOM for he answered before John could finish "Permission granted, Master Chief; give'em hell -that's an order -how copy? Over."

"Captain, this is Sierra-117. Solid copy. Out." John responded as Red parked his Scorpion next to James and watched as Johns' Scorpion was sucked up into the bowls of the cruiser.

"James," Linda broke in over the TACCOM "why is Johns' NAV marker saying that he's _inside _the Covenant cruiser." James wasted no time in responding "That's because he is," They both watched as an explosion ripped a hole into the hull near the gravity lift bay "John decided to take the cruiser down by using its' gravity lift to take his Scorpion into the cruiser where he plans on destroying it from the inside." James finished explaining as another explosion ripped a hole into the hull.

Will sighed in annoyance over the TACCOM before Linda responded "You _didn't _try to _stop him _from throwing his life away?" And James responded with "He seemed _pretty confident_ that he was going to survive."

"Don't worry," Chief broke in over the TACCOM, explosions were heard over his COM "I have already worked out how I'm leaving this ship."

Another explosion ripped a hole through the hull, and the cruiser began to rock unsteadily.

"Covenant logic dictates that they _can't _deactivate their damn gravity lift when three pissed off _'Demons' _are knocking on the doors." Jorge joked over the TACCOM.

"Who's complaining?" Kelly replied as another explosion ripped a hole into the cruisers' hull with Joseph breaking in over the TACCOM "Agreed. maintain radio silence, and watch the fireworks."

Another explosion ripped a hole through the cruisers' hull just as a voice came over the TACCOM "Alpha-Blue Team, this is Pelican dropship: Zulu-056. I'm moving in to provide EVAC. ETA: minus 2 minutes -how copy? Over."

Red immediately responded "Zulu-056, this is Alpha-Blue-03. Solid copy, out." And just as Red stopped speaking, another explosion ripped a hole through the cruisers' hull. And not long after that explosion, the gravity lift deactivated which must had meant that the cruisers' pilots knew they weren't going to make it, but decided to take a "Demon" with them if they were going to go down.

Another explosion blew a large hole into the cruisers' hull, and the cruiser began to shake profusely as it slowing started to descend towards the city. James wasted no time in warning John "Chief! The cruiser's going down; disengage; I saw again, disengage!"

"Affirmative." Chiefs' gruff voice replied, and Red and James watched as a figure fell out of the hole in the hull that was closest to the gravity lift bay -likely actually _inside _the gravity lift bay.

The figure sped towards them as it slowly began to shape out as John who was using the body and jump-jet of a Brute Ranger to control his descent.

"Always the resourceful one." Jorge joked over the TACCOM which must had meant that the rest of Blue Team was watching what was happening by zooming in their HUD view, or -in Lindas' case- using the scope of their weapons that were linked up to their HUD.

Thanks to the Brute, Johns' descent from the cruiser to the ground posed no problems. And he landed safely before releasing his clutches on the Brutes' body and making his way over to where Zulu-056 had designated as the EVAC zone on their HUD.

John had just destroyed a CCS-class battlecruiser and its' entire crew. Yet he acted like it was nothing. Red realized then that there was no stopping him.

The Gravemind let out a booming laugh as the memory slowly faded away "I admire your faith within this food that you call brother," Red noticed that he was in sightly less pain, and he was able to move his fingers around inside the Graveminds' flesh, and that he was also in the same position within the Graveminds' flesh that he originally was -he was being bought back out of the Gravemind "but this _'Master Chief' _will not defeat us."

Red heard something. A sound that was like a reptile bark. The Gravemind let out another booming laugh before saying "Your saviors are here."

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**A lot of the Halo canon is very blurred. One such blurred fact is that John and most of the SPARTANs didn't encounter Brutes, Elites, or Hunters until much later into the war. I find that future expansion into the Halo Universe contradicts this. So I have just decided that John and the rest of the SPARTANs ****_had_**** encountered and fought all races of the Covenant (Save the Prophets and Engineers) numerous times in the Human-Covenant War.**


	23. Fourth Act of Inconvenience

_To thine own eyes: High Prophet of Regret, High Prophet of Mercy._

_Dearest Brothers:_

_The victories against the heretic Human race has been, by all means, granted by the Gods.  
>World after world has fallen, their poisonous essence and very existence is being purged.<br>The Forerunners made a mistake in choosing the Humans as the Reclaimers, a dire mistake. And I know that we do them a great service by keeping their mistake a secret, and wiping the falsely chosen away, and living up to the heritage of the Covenant being the true Reclaimers._

_But despite our attempts to keep this damaging truth a secret, we are no longer the only ones who know the truth.  
>The Prophet of Pity has, through cunning means, discovered our secret.<br>This may not had been such a problem if it was anyone other than that fool.  
>But while I deal with the Prophet of Pity, I must caution you to guard this secret much more carefully, we cannot allow anyone else to know of this devastating truth, less it break the Covenant apart.<em>

_Unfortunately, I cannot execute the Prophet of Pity, not even quietly. His influence is too great, and his disappearance will raise questions.  
>So I have decided to not permanently silence him, but approach him peacefully, and offer him something in return for is infinite silence.<br>This should and will work according to my deigned plan, for the entire Covenant knows of the Prophet of Pitys' greed._

_I bid you good tidings. And I demand that you heed my warnings accordingly, and lock these secrets up more tightly.  
>I will not revel the events that led up to the Prophet of Pity finding out the truth, less I change your perspective of me to one of low respect. Just know that I made terrible mistake that I shall not make again. And I warn you to avoid making the same mistake.<em>

_By my own hands: High Prophet of Truth_

* * *

><p><span><strong>September 10, 2555 [0916 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard Unknown ****_Sahara_****-class heavy Prowler.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>Security in the interview room was almost tripled after Red confirmed to West that there was a Flood Spore originating from the Gravemind in his brain. The extra security was no surprise, of course. Red would have actually been surprised if it was the opposite, and that West wasn't taking the necessary precautions.<p>

There was now three guards standing to the either side of him with the two closest to him having a M45D shotgun at the ready. There was also two guards in each corner, with another two on both the right and left side of the sealed door that led into the corridor of the Prowler. There was also some automatic turrets set up on the walls that were to shoot Red if Frasine commanded them to.

West wanted to actually perform an immediate surgical operation on Red to remove the Graveminds' Spore. But Red -actually the Graveminds' Spore- aggressively refused. West could had forcefully detain Red if he had to, but decided not to risk any lives, and decided to wait until they got back to _Earth _so the proper authorities could handle him. While in the meantime, West wanted to know what happened next -he actually seemed invested in what he was hearing, and was eager to know what happened next.

West took his seat across from Red, coffee and Data-pad on his side of the table -as usual. When he was seated he picked up his coffee mug, took a small sip before putting the coffee mug back on the table and picking up his Data-pad while grabbing his stylus out of his shirt pocket "ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session 7: begin." He said as he turned his Data-pad on.

Once the Graveminds' Spore was revealed, it let Red explain almost everything to West.

Red explained why the surviving crew of the _Kryptonite _didn't say anything past when Red was captured by the Flood -it was the Graveminds' Spore that ordered them to, not Red. And it told the crew for its' amusement, so it could be cryptic about "The story" -as it would call.

Red also explained why he was previously using his "098 personality" when he knew that his "098 personality" was a lie -it was so Red didn't seem suspicious to the crew of the Prowler. And for its' amusement, the Graveminds' Spore decided to make Reds' "098 personality" stick around for a bit -until it got bored and decided to let Red control his own mind again.

Red also explained to West that the Graveminds' Spore was the reason he knew things when he wasn't there. But he didn't explain as to why he knew exactly what Rhine, Vale and Thel was thinking. He did, however, explain that the Gravemind had access to Nais' thoughts and emotions through a deeper fraternal twin connection. But Thel, Vale, and Rhine would be explained later.

Red also shaved his hair to show the scar from where the Gravemind dug into his head, and planted its' Spore. And explained that the Gravemind controls him to some extend. And that Red could say and do what he wants. But if what he wants to say or do contradicts what the Graveminds' Spore wants, the Graveminds' Spore would instantly prevent him -like the Graveminds' Spore was a second brain.

He also explained that while the Graveminds' Spore knew everything that _was _or _is_, Red did not. And could only know what _was _or _is _if the Graveminds' Spore showed or told him.

But Red didn't explain about the control chip the Monitor put into his mind that decreased the pain the Spore was causing him, and prevented the Graveminds' Spore from taking over Reds' body randomly for its' random acts of violence for its' amusement. If the Graveminds' Spore was going to do that, it would be a significant amount of pressure on its' part. That's why Red had a large outbreak earlier; the Graveminds' Spore was building it up and decided to release its' built up anger to spite Red. Red guessed the reason he didn't mention the chip was because the Graveminds' Spore didn't actually want the chip inserted into Reds' brain -but Lynda acted fast.

Red smiled at the memory of Lynda knocking him out when the Graveminds' Spore took control of him to prevent the Monitor from placing the chip in him. But a bit of pain washed through Reds' head which told him that the Graveminds' Spore wanted him to stop being so happy about it.

West so far hadn't bought up the mutiny yet. Red guessed that was because West wasn't particularly happy that he was with ONI at the moment, and he was likely ashamed of himself.

West was using his stylus to type something down on his Data-pad, and Red decided to break the silence "I'm going to leave you on another cliffhanger." Red announced in a tone that spoke of amusement. But it was really Graveminds' Spore that made Red say what he said; still it seemed to make Red say cryptic stuff that served no purpose but to confuse West.

West narrowed his eyes in annoyance before putting his Data-pad down and raising his head to face Red "Well that makes no sense; I mean... I_ don't see _why the Gravemind would continue to bounce around like this."

_(He has a point- I still desire amusement) _"It says that its' bored, and it finds you trying to work your head around everything amusing." Red explained. Though the Graveminds' Spore didn't exactly say that, it didn't stop Red from saying it.

West let out a light chuckled as he picked up his Data-pad again and muttered "Fucking asshole" as he began using his stylus to write something down onto the Data-pad again. That wasn't smart of him, the Graveminds' Spore knew of all Human curses and slang words. And whenever someone mocked it, they always ended up trying to kill Red.

_(Damn it! Just ignore him!) _"Your dead son was a _'fucking asshole' _to those he calls 'friend' before he died." The Gravemind chuckled with its' mobile forms' voice. It was hard for the Gravemind to take control of the forms' mouth. But it was always worth it when it came to the food that mocked it.

The Food narrowed its' eyes and putting its' Data-pad down before raising its' head to look at the Graveminds' mobile forms' face, its'eyes full of nothing but irritation "That ain't gonna work," The Food smirked "because _I know_ what your intentions are. And I know that you'll fuck off if I ignore you."

The Gravemind let out a laugh through its' mobile form before letting the form have its' mind back _(See! The joke's on you!) _"Sorry!" Red quickly apologized as he began rubbing his head "It gets annoyed easily, so I recommend you don't provoke it." Red was thankful that West would learn this the _easy_ way over the much worse _hard _way which involved the person that the Graveminds' Spore insulted attacking Red and almost getting killed.

West let out a sigh of relief as he picked up his Data-pad again, his body slumping back into his chair as if a considerable amount of pressure was taken off of his shoulders "Agreed; that wasn't the smartest thing I have ever said." West let out a light chuckle and gestured towards Red "Continue when you ready."

_(Acknowledged) _Red nodded in acknowledgement, and opened his mouth to begin explaining what happened next.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1134 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Prophet Of Pity's Quarters, CAS-Class Assault Carrier: ****_Everlasting Retribution_****, Installation 06.**

**Vale Nar 'Sarasee...**

* * *

><p>A dish was put in front of Vale. A selective of his favorite food on one dish. An assortment of salads with his favorite spices covering them. There was also a large strip of tender and crispy Srevra meat peppered in his favorite spices with oil and wine soaking it.<p>

Most of the salads and spices were from the other Covenant races' home-worlds -ergo: Eayn, Doisac. Many of Vales' Sangheili crew did not like the idea of him eating foreign food and spices, and while the taste was distinctly odd from the tastes of food from Sanghelios, the food was superb.

Vale began cutting up his tender meat with his utensils to get the meat through his mandibles when he spotted a Unggoy bringing over Careekius's dish of Thorn Beast meat.

"Finally!" Careekius roared in irritation as the dish was put in front of him. It was odd to see a Sangheili and Jiralhanae eat together. Vale even remembered a time when he personally found the thought to be his own personal taboo. But that was when he was young and slightly naive. But now, Vale regretted he did not eat with Careekius earlier -he could not stop jesting and talking when he was with Vale.

The meal chamber was full of Kig-Yar, Sangheili, and Jiralhanae seating with their own kin, by themselves, or with other races. But there were no Unggoy other than the servants -the Unggoy had their own chamber for their "Food nipple". And there was no sight of a single Sangheili and Jiralhanae sitting together -which came to no surprise to Vale, but still served as a disappointment that his crew were not learning to put aside their racism after witnessing him being around the kind-hearted Careekius so much.

The chamber itself was large enough to fit five hundred mouths at a time. The chamber was circular with a large dome serving as the roof and a large blue orb floating up in the domed roof that served as a light. The chamber was full of tables and benches in filed formations, and there was a stage at the far end of the chamber that served for anyone of religious matter to perform Sermons for the eating crew.

Vale used his forked utensil to pick up a thin strip of meat and brought it up to his mandibles where they snapped to grab it from the fork before they chewed it up and swallowed it. Vale found it hard to use his mandibles to their full potential after the beating he received the rotation before, and he slurred a bit when he spoke. Though the doctors reassured him that his mandibles will stop hurting, Vale was still worried about long-term damage. And there was likely going to be more damage after the Prophet of Pity eventually got around to calling him back to continue his beating. So far the Prophet of Pity had not brought it up, but it was only a matter of time.

_(Perfection as usual)_ A burst of flavor erupted in Vales' mouth, and he had to use a cloth to wipe away some saliva that was dripping from his mouth. Thankfully, Careekius did not see this. But then again, Careekius was making a mess as-well; pulling the meat apart with his hands before grabbing the juice covered meat and gorging it down his throat. _(It is rude to watch) _Vale quickly decided to divert his attention back to his food before Careekius spotted him looking at him.

"Drink, Master of Fleet." Vale cocked his head around to see a Unggoy holding a tray with goblets of wine on it. The Unggoy was a small thing, wearing basic serving robes with a methane tank on its' back and a tube linking from the tank up to his nose. The Unggoy also looked scared, seemingly unaware of Vales' kind heart to all those who serve him loyally.

_(I hate to see these things in so much fear) _Vale kindly grabbed a goblet and the jug of wine from the tray and placed them on the round table that he and Careekius was sitting at before craning his head back around to face the Unggoy "Thank you." Vale nodded in respect at small creature before reaching into his robes pocket and pulling out one of the many small Gekz tokens he had and kindly passed it to the Unggoy "Do not waste it." Vale kindly clicked his mandibles at the Unggoy with it beaming in happiness before bowing in respect "Thank you, oh so holy Master of Fleet." the Unggoy happily thanked in a tone of gratitude before turning around and carefully walking away with the tray still in his hands.

"You are too kind to one that will likely be torn apart by the next Jiralhanae it serves." Careekius observed and warned at the same time in a sad tone. _(I know)_ He was right; Jiralhanae often killed Unggoy for amusement. But Vale would not let that happen.

_(But all that walk the path are equal) _"I am only now aware of the constant killings the Jiralhanae have committed -no one gave it thought to inform me. And it saddens me that I have not been informed earlier," Vale stated as he took a sip from the goblet of wine that was specially designed to work with the Sangheili's mandibles "But now that I know, I mean to announce a penalty of execution to any murder of Unggoy."

Careekius quickly interjected "Many will not like that announcement." He warned before grabbing a strip of meat and gorging it into his mouth before letting out a burp and wiping the juice away from his cleanly shaven snout.

_(Many should not be so cruel) _Vale would not stand for senseless murder, and parted his mandibles to speak up "Those cruel enough to find amusement in the killing of their fellow brothers -no matter how small those brothers may be- deserve to die." Vale did not like the idea of execution. But it was necessary as long as the crime permitted it. Not like the Prophet of Pity who enjoyed executing people for his own arrogance.

Careekius finished taking a sip from his goblet and put it down on the table before turning his large head around to face Vale who was picking up some salad with his utensil "Just because I said that many will not like what your planned announcement , does not mean I do not like it; I find it a perfect idea."

_(I did not mean for you to heed my words so) _"Forgive me. I may have said the wrong words." Vale apologized, but still using his usual indifferent tone. Vale forgot that even Jiralhanae could be sensitive -a fact that many Sangheili consider false.

"There is nothing to forgive, brother," Careekius quickly reassured him in a reassuring tone before taking another sip from his goblet before putting it back down on the table "Anyway, I am the one who should be forgiven."

_(Why) _Vale was curious about why he said that "Why do you say that?" Vale clicked his mandibles in question before placing his forked utensil with salad on it into his mouth.

"What I said just then," Careekius answered "it was unnecessary and only served to confuse you."

_(There is nothing to forgive) _Vale finished taking a sip from his goblet and placed it down onto the table before replying "There is nothing to forgive, brother. You spoke your mind, and I respect you for that."

Careekius let out a reassured chuckle before sighing. He then shook it off and grabbed a piece of meat and gorged it down before burping again. Vale successfully stopped a grin from forming at the Chieftains' eating habits, and spotted a familiar looking Sangheili Minor approaching their table with a dish in his hand. _(Skae 'Kuzomee. He does not seem like one who would simply seat himself with two of a higher rank then himself) _Vale had a quick look around and saw two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras taking a seat at a table a few rows away from them.

"Forgive me, Fleet-Master," Skae bowed in respect and apology before taking a seat on the bench across from them. Careekius looked up as if he only just now noticed Skae -which he probably did.

_(There is no reason for me to forgive you) _"Think nothing of it," Vale waved his hand in a reassuring gesture "I would had let you sit among us even if you were not being followed."

Careekius almost choked on his meat "_What?_" He coughed as he looked around in confusion before spotting the two Captain Ultras, and he immediately said: "Fleet-Master, I gave no such order."

_(I know you did not) _"I did not expect you to; remember, the Prophet of Pity shall use your pack for his own personal use -with or without your permission. And your pack will always put the loyalty of the Prophet of Pity before their loyalty to you." Vale explained to him before picking up another strip of meat with his utensil and feeding it through to his mouth.

"I figured he would do that," Careekius stated in a puzzled tone before grabbing his goblet and taking a sip, his eyes not leaving the two Captain Ultras, and he finished taking a sip and placed his goblet back on the table before continuing "but I thought he would had at least asked me; there is no reason for him not to."

_(Other Prophets, maybe. But not the Prophet of Pity; he is an exception) _"The Prophet of Pity is an exception in all ways; if he finds something necessary to tell his Chieftain unnecessary, he will not speak it." Vale explained before waving a Unggoy with a tray of goblets over.

Skae saw Vale wave the Unggoy over, but did not protest. This was wise for it was rude in Sangheili customs to refuse any food or drink offered by someone unless it was necessary.

The Unggoy hopped along towards them before working his way around the table until he was next to Vale "Oh so holy Master of Fleet, how I serve?" The Unggoy asked in an excited tone, happy to be serving a Fleet-Master.

"Wine for him, please," Vale gestured with his right hand a Skae while reaching into his robes' pocket with his left hand and pulling out a Gekz token and kindly handing it to the Unggoy.

The Unggoys' face beamed when it saw the token "Thank you, kind Master of Fleet." The Unggoy bowed in respect as he pocketed the token in his aprons' pocket before turning around and carefully hurrying over to Skae where Skae kindly grabbed a goblet from the tray while affectionately patting the Unggoy on the head before nodding that the Unggoy could leave, which it did after bowing in respect and thanking Skae. _(Rejoice, I am not the only one)_

"Odd." Careekius remarked suddenly after he saw what happened between the Unggoy and Skae.

Skae raised his head to face Careekius "What do you mean?" Skae clicked his mandibles in question at Careekius before taking a sip from his goblet. _(I think I know what he means) _It was possible that Careekius found it odd that Skae was so kind to a Unggoy after one nearly got him killed.

Careekius grabbed his goblet and replied with: "A Unggoy almost got you killed, yet you show no visible anger towards their race for such a personal strife." Careekius finished and took a sip from his goblet. What Careekius said confirmed Vales' theory. _(I would like to hear this)_

Skae finished chewing down a piece of meat from his dish, and put his utensil back down onto the table next to his dish before explaining: "I will not hold a grudge against an entire race over the sins of one member."

_(Very well spoken) _Vale nodded and clicked his mandibles in agreement. It was rare for Vale to see a Sangheili that was in a similar state of mind as he was. Skae also did not seem to mind Careekius as-well which was a bonus.

"Perfectly put," Careekius said in a tone of agreement as he shuffled another small strip of meat in his mouth, swallowed it, and continued "the Unggoy _do not_ deserve to be treated as they are. And it is hard to make a Jiralhanae think that... _but after what I have seen done to them on Doisac... _I promised myself that I would forbid the brutal acts against them when I became Chieftain of the pack _(Chieftain?) _But then Literus overthrew my father, gutted him for the fun of it and made me eat his guts in spite," Careekius turned to look at Vale who was twitching his mandibles in puzzlement "But do not believe for a second that me speaking out against him was an act of personal vengeance."

_(No) _Vale immediately shook his head "Of course not; you do not seem as the type to do something like that, and your words against Literus carried a weight of logic," _(But how did I not know this already? Am I really that disconnected to the backgrounds of essentials in my fleet?)_ Vale toyed around with his salad using his fork as he wondered if he should say what he wanted to say next, all the while Careekius had a confused and curious look on his face, and he narrowed his eyes at Vale before nodding for him to speak up _(If you insist) _"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?" Careekius quickly broke in before grabbing his wine jug and filling up his goblet.

_(Allow me to explain) _"I admit, I did not know of your back-story; of your origins," Vale admitted and clicked his mandibles in a remorse "And it is not just you... I have been disconnected with members of this fleet for a while..."

"Politics," Careekius chuckled "Brother, it is fine; I am distant with my _own _pack since becoming Chieftain."

_(Sorrowful times) _Vale did what Careekius just did, and grabbed the wine jug and proceeded to fill up his goblet "Politics... takes a heavy toll in so many ways," Vale mused, watching the red wine pour into his goblet "but I always managed to veer around such an obstacle. But now we are here, on Halo..."

"I speak words of reassurance when I say that paradise is infinite," Skae joined in with a reassuring gesture with his right hand while using his left to hold his utensil and dig around in his food "and soon, you will have unlimited time to connect with the members of this fleet."

_(Smart words of reassurance) _Skae was right; Vale would have time to connect with members of the Covenant when they go to paradise, and were saved from their doomed existence; that was if Vale did not spend all his time communing with the Forerunners. Vale was glad that he released Skae from his cell after convincing the Prophet of Pity to forget about what happened, and let him deal with Skae. The Prophet reluctantly agreed. But that did not seem to stop the Prophet of Pity from sending his agents to tail Skae; Vale feared for what they may do.

_(Perhaps I should voice my concerns) _Vale brought his goblet up to his mandibles and took another sip before putting the goblet back onto the table and raising his head to face Skae who was eating a strip of meat "Brother," Skae looked up to face Vale "the Prophet of Pity seems to be making haste to act aggressively against you," Skaes' face began to show signs of worry "so I recommend that you be retained in a cell -again."

Skae nodded in agreement "I was going to mention that myself." Skae stated as he took a bite out of the meat on his utensil.

_(You should not have to) _"I am sorry, brother." Vale apologized, clicking his mandibles in remorse as he used his utensil to pick up the last strip of meat while using his free hand to cover the meet in his salad.

Skae looked up to face him, a reassuring grin being formed by his mandibles "Fear not, Fleet-Master, for I had a fair share of time in a cell. And going back to one for my protection means nothing to the alternative." Skae went back to finishing off his meat.

_(I am aware as to what he means) _"Do tell." Careekius waved for him to continue before grabbing his goblet and taking a sip from it.

Skae nodded in compliance while Vale finished off his meal and waved a Unggoy over to take his plate "All Sangheili know of the 'Kuzom civil conflict that happened not 13 cycles ago," Vale watched Careekius nod in curiosity "The Lineage split over a political disagreement on the assassination of Laves 'Kuzomee -the greatest 'Kuzom lineage Kaidon in Sangheili history."

Vale gave his plate to the Unggoy servant and waved the servant off before thanking it and giving it a Gekz token. Careekius began to lean forward in eagerness, it was odd to see a Jiralhanae so interested in Sangheili history and culture _(Will I be blessed by the Gods further for saving this young ones' life?) _"The Elders were split between whether to execute the Elder that assassinated the Laves for killing such a grand Kaidon," Skae continued "or whether to let the Elder live as per proper customs; two sides came out: the 'Kuzom loyalists -wanting the Elder executed and to betray Sangheili customs- and the Unyielding Culturists -wanting to protect the Elder and uphold Sangheili customs. I sided with the Culturists, and voiced my outcry publicly."

Careekius was heavily invested in the story Skae was telling _(This is a joyous sight to withhold)_ "I was imprisoned or my outcry; the Loyalist Elders not wanting to give me the honorable death, locked me in the dark. And in the dark I stayed..." Skae raised his head, sadness and gratitude in his eyes as his mandibles formed a smile at Vale _(You are welcome)_ "Until the 'Kuzom lineages' loyal allies decided to step in, and to peacefully resolve this issue -the Saras Lineage."

_(Led by me at the time)_ Vale remembered when he received the message about the civil conflict, and how he immediately responded by calling upon his fleet that was in orbit -he was lucky enough to had been sent back to Sanghelios by the council for some recuperation after his fleet was crippled in a major battle against the Humans. His fleet was small at the time, but he had enough ships to intimidate the 'Kuzom Lineage to heed his warnings for them to cease their aggression before it turned into war.

Skae continued, eyes fixed on Vale "You saved my life brother; twice. You saved many lives in the civil strife, you ended the conflict before violence began, and reminded the Loyalists of their Sangheili customs, and I was freed," Skae nodded in respect at Vale "And now, not 13 cycles later, you have saved me yet again from the Prophet of Pity."

"Do not thank him just yet," Careekius interjected while eyeing the Ultra Captains "The Prophet of Pity seems to be still out to execute you." That was true. But despite Vale convincing the Prophet to let Skae and the responsible Huragok live, it appeared the Prophet did not listen. Vale would have to make haste to speak with the Prophet soon.

_(you are right) _Vale finished taking a sip from his goblet and put it down, it and the jug was now empty so he waved a Unggoy over to collect them before cocking his head around to face Skae "I explained to the Prophet of Pity that your weighted words were true; the Ghost was tampered with by a Unggoy. And I managed to convince him to let both you and the responsible Huragok live. There is no reason for him to spy on you. That is if they even are spying on you; they are not doing a good job. And I doubt the Prophet of Pity will execute you if I know that it may be what he is planning."

Skae nodded his head in understanding "Perhaps you should bring this matter up with him again?" Skae suggested "Either all, I am willing to be put in a cell for my protection." Vale did not want to lock Skae up; it was a waste of a Ghost pilot.

Vale thought on this (_A cell may not be necessary) _The Unggoy he called earlier finally came over to him, and he passed the Unggoy his goblet and the wine jug before grabbing another wine jug -just in-case Skae wanted more wine- and reached into his pocket and pulled out another Gekz token and passed it to the happy Unggoy before nodding his head in thanks at the Unggoy to have him bow in respect and gratitude before hurrying off with the tray carrying a couple goblets and a jug _(Small and slow creatures. But they are loyal and worthy as any other to walk the blessed path. Now, back to the current events) _"Perhaps I do not need to lock you back up," Vale mused with both Skae and Careekius turning their heads to face him, puzzled expressions on their faces "On the contrary to be exact. tell me, brother, how is your experience when it comes to piloting Ghosts?"

Skae narrowed his eyes at Vale and finished off his last bit of meat before placing his utensils down and saying: "I was specially drafted into piloting Ghosts for this fleet. And I have piloted Ghosts and fought Humans in this fleet for about seven cycles." Seven out of the twenty cycles the Fleet had been assembled was good enough for Vale to be confident with. Vale was actually surprised about how Skae was still a Minor after so many cycles of service.

_(That is good enough) _Vale knew what he wanted "We have heard rumors of some type of Parasite that has attacked all ground scouting teams I have sent deeper across the ring; this may be _the _Parasite -enemies of our Gods," Skaes' face showed a great deal amount of worry, and he clicked his mandibles in worry as-well "I mean to send a large armored convoy led by General Trerx 'Huldamee towards where these disappearances have happened to see what the scouting teams' fate is. And If it means putting you to use while also getting you away from the Prophet of Pity, I plan on sending you with the convoy while also promoting you to Major -a much deserved rank."

Skae quickly got up off of the bench he was sitting on, and bowed in respect and gratitude "You honor me, Fleet-Master. I shall serve you to the best of my abilities." Vale had to resist letting his mandibles form a grin; it was always a good feeling to make someone happy. _(He deserves it. Though, the Prophet of Pity will think to the contrary when I tell him)_

Vale gestured for Skae to be at ease and take his seat again which he did _(There is one thing that requires attention) _"Before you join the convoy -which shall be soon- I must take you to the Prophet of Pity where he will bless you with giving your spot on the path back to you -since he screamed about having removed you earlier."

Careekius waved a Unggoy over to collect the empty plates that he and Skae had, while Skae simply nodded in acknowledgement, still having the eyes of worry about facing the possible "Flood". _(I should clarify myself) _"You have a choice, of course -about going with the convoy. I would not dare order you to do something that you have no desire to do." Vale clicked his mandibles in reassurance at Skae who simply nodded indifferently.

Skae still had the eyes of worry, and looked as if he was trying to make a decision. But he finally spoke up: "I have no reason to fear death if my spot on the Great Journey is secured; I shall go." Vale was glad to hear this. He would be away from the Prophet, and in the caring hands of some of his most trusted warriors. But Vale would not send soldiers to their death; he already made sure to have a Corvette in a supportive position for the convoy.

_(Hopefully that will be enough) _"In the mean time," Vale said before either Careekius or Skae could bring up another topic "I have received permission from the high Prophet of Truth to destroy this Forerunner device that is keeping us stranded on this holy ring."

Careekius wasted no time in interjecting "Is the high Prophet of Truth sure this will not bring about the wraith of our Gods?" Careekius had every right to be worried; no member of the Covenant wanted to be left behind when the Great Journey started over a mistake.

_(I do not truly know what the Prophets' are playing at. But I do know that I was planning on destroying this device with or without his permission) _While Vale always spoke his mind, he only spoke his mind if what he was thinking was relevant to the situation. That is why he always put aside any retorts he had for the Prophet of Pity; they were irrelevant. But thankfully the heretical thoughts he often had were never relevant for the current situation. The same was here: he had no reason to reveal what he was thinking, and get himself into serious trouble.

Pushing all thoughts aside: Vale answered "It would be illogical for the Gods to tell the high Prophet of Truth to sacrifice a fleet veterans in combat against the Humans, along with one of the Covenants' most greatest military tacticians over the preservation of a single device infected by the rogue Oracle the Gods left behind."

"The Fleet-Master speaks true," Skae agreed "the high Prophet of Truth will not lead us astray."

_(He may already have) _Vale kept the thought inside of his mind for there was no reason to bring it up. And it would be life threatening if he bought it up. He would not -could not- jeopardize Yexyn and Qrs's search for the Heretics and Humans.

"I am reassured. And I was wrong to doubt the high Prophet of Truth." Careekius stated in a relieved tone.

_(Doubting him is all I am doing) _Vale shook the thought before answering "A minor doubt," Vale saw Skae nod in agreement "It matters not. All that matters is that you only act on that doubt if it has been proven true, or if lives hang in the balance over your doubt; but not before."

Vale remembered a similar philosophy he had about how making mistakes are okay if you learn and evolve from them in such a way that you will not make them again. Vale was logical to say the least.

"That is well spoken," Careekius remarked as he swiped up his goblet and took a quick sip before placing it back down on the table and turning to face him "But it has a meaning that worries me."

Vale spotted Skae nodding out of the corner of his eye "Philosophy is always controversial," Vale stated, eyes fixed on Careekius's eyes "But I can see why you are worried. _(But you should be; I am acting on my doubt)_" Vale quickly pushed the thought aside; not wanting to betray his trait of always speaking his mind when it was relevant, but not wanting to endanger himself nor Yexyns' crew or Qrs's team.

"What about the operation to destroy the device?" Skae quickly broke in, attempting to change the topic -much to Vales' relief- with Vale and Careekius quickly turning their heads to face Skae. Careekius let out a breath, as he was relieved _(I believe that Careekius wants the topic changed as much as me. He will likely report this to the Prophet of Pity. But I do not see what the Prophet of Pity can do against weightless words)_

"Please clarify what you want to know." Vale gestured for Skae to continue. Skae no doubt wanted to know how the operation was going to play out. It was ironic: information retrieved from the Humans suggested that they did not discuss important military operations with simple soldiers. Vale suspected this was due to the Humans' inner conflict.

"Which ships will be assigned to attack the device? When will the operation commence? Will you be leading the operation?" Skae laid out his questions for Vale to answer. They were simple questions that any reasonable warrior would have.

Skae had curiosity in his eyes as he clicked his mandibles in eagerness as Vale shifted leaned forward to explain. _(Difficult questions for an inexperienced military Commander that has not already figured out his plan. But not for me. I have already planned this out) _"The _Condolence _Will be leading a detachment consisting of two of the three remaining Corvettes, nine frigates, four of the CCS-Class Battlecruisers, and one of the CRS-Class light cruisers." Skae took a sip out of his goblet as he listened to Vale continue

"So a large amount of the fleet on Halo. But I do not believe reconnaissance to be a priority until the device is destroyed, and the rest of the fleet can enter through the space/sky border. The operation itself shall start in about two more units; that is when the detachment will begin making their way to the device. And I will not be personally commanding it; that is Ship-Master Sek 'Moramees' task. I would be leading the operation if I could trust the Prophet of Pity not to execute anyone while I was absent."

Careekius let out a roar of laughter while Skae clicked his mandibles in amusement. _(I was not jesting) _"I had no intentions off jesting," Vale informed them in an indifferent tone "And although I understand your amusement; I was serious."

Skaes' grin formed by his mandibles quickly disappeared with Careekius choking off his laughter before swiping up his goblet and taking a nervous sip. But despite this, Vale was not going to make a move to reassure them that he was fine with their amusement. Because although he understood it, he did not appreciate it.

Finally after a few moments of awkward silence, Skae spoke up "Forgive me, Fleet-Master. I had no intentions on making offense."

_(I suppose now that he has brought it up, I should reassure them) _"There was no offense; amusement and humor is a natural instinct," Vale gestured his hand in reassurance "And what I spoke was amusing to your minds, so you showed your amusement; for it is unnatural to hide amusement in fear of wraith. If a person does not like someone finding amusement in what he says, he should watch his words more correctly other than punishing the one who showed their amusement."

Careekius was about to respond with something when his eyes diverted to the same site Vale was seeing: The Captain Ultras had gotten up from their tables, and were making their way over to them. _(So goes my chain of peaceful meals) _Vale made no move to get up, and simply watched the captain Ultras' approach why fixing his eyes on Skaes to tell him with no words what was happening while also telling him not to turn around. Vale had learnt a long time ago that eyes tell people something as much as words could.

"What do you want?" Careekius questioned his pack members in a tone of irritation. Vale was hoping that Careekius would speak to them first to prevent any awkwardness.

"The Prophet of Pity has called upon the Fleet-Master to have his beating for disrespect continued," One of the Captain Ultras said. _(Why wait so long?) _"And has called upon the Chieftain to continue the beating. He has also ordered us to escort the Heretic to his execution."

_(Skae?)_ Vale calmly shifted his legs over the bench and got up with Careekius doing the same while wearing a face of anger "You must had not been informed; the Prophet of Pity has forgiven Skae 'Kuzomee for his false crimes." Vale calmly reminded the Captain Ultras while clicking his mandibles together in irritation.

The captain Ultras both turned their heads to gaze at each other before turning their heads back to face them "After dwelling on what he had said, the Prophet of Pity decided he was too merciful," The second Captain Ultra informed them with Vale gritting his mandibles together while he saw Careekius shake his head in annoyance from the corner of his eye "The Heretic is to be executed immediately."

Vale calmly waved for Skae to get up with a flash of worry appearing on his face. Vale then cocked his head around to gaze at the Jiralhanae "Skae 'Kuzomee is not a Heretic. He has been proven innocent of attempting to assassinate the Prophet of Pity -a degrading accusation- and is free to continue with his assigned duties."

"The Prophet of Pity has ordered us to execute you on the spot if you attempt to resist his orders." The second Captain Ultra warned him.

_(Really? Is he so foolish? The council will have his head if I am executed for such a farce) _Vale shook his head in annoyance "I am well within my rights to resist the Prophet of Pity, and even detain him if he persists; the council would not tolerate my execution over the Prophet of Pitys' blinding arrogance."

The Captain Ultras almost jumped at Vales' blunt words "It is heresy to speak like that." The first Captain Ultra warned him.

_(No it is not) _Vale shook his head in disagreement "The entire Covenant are not afraid to announce their verbal agreement; it is a fact that the Prophet of Pity is arrogant beyond belief," Vale then parted his arms as if saying "Come and get me" as a crowd began to form around them "Care to test your spot on the path by attempting to execute me?" Vales' eyes turned to pure coldness "The Council will have your heads if you lay _but one _finger on me."

The Sangheili in the crowd began to draw their energy swords and prepared to attack the Captain Ultras if they had to why Skae calmly moved out-of-the-way before drawing his own energy sword. Careekius just stood still with disbelief and amusement on his face.

The Captain Ultras' turned their heads around to gaze at each other before nodding to each other and turning around to make their way back to the Prophet of Pity to report their failure. Doing that would be dangerous for them, so Vale decided to speak out "Wait," The two Captain Ultras halted and turned their heads around to face him "The Prophet of Pity will have you executed on the spot for your failure. So I will go with you to prevent that; Chieftain, Skae, you should come as well."

Skae nodded in compliance and calmly made his way around the table and over to Vale while Careekius made his way around the table to join his pack members.

_(At least they let me finish my meal before starting this farce) _Vale shook his head in annoyance as he began to make his way through the parting crowd with Skae on his trail while Careekius and the Captain Ultras' continued to move ahead of them; the Captain Ultras not daring to turn around to face Vale -as it should be.

* * *

><p>The group finally arrived at the Prophet of Pitys' quarters.<p>

It was not actually the Prophet of Pitys' quarters but more of Vales' quarters. But it was custom for a Commander to give up his quarters to a Prophet if a Prophet was to take passage on their ship. Vale had no problem with giving his room over to the Prophet of Pity, but he did have a problem with the redesigning the Prophet had done over the years that signified that he was planning on staying for a long, _long _time.

The doors hissed opened as they neared it, and they entered into the round small round chamber that served as the quarters by descending the few steps that Vale never found any point to.

The Prophet of Pity per usual was reading a scroll. But put it down when he heard the door hiss opened to turn and see that Skae was with them, and had almost screamed in shock "_YOU FOOLS! YOU BRING THE ASSASSIN NEAR ME -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PIT?! GET HIM AWAY FROM ME -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY! GET HIM AWAY FROM ME -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY!_"

_(My mind hurts) _Vale clicked his mandibles together in annoyance at the Prophet of Pitys' stupidity and the pain that was washing over his mind at the screaming that his mind should had adapted to resist.

"I bought Skae 'Kuzomee here to be reinstated along the blessed path." Vale clicked his mandibles in explanation with the Prophet of Pity slamming his hands down onto his anti-gravity thrones armrests.

"_WHY WOULD I -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY- GIVE SUCH AN HONOR TO AN ASSASSIN WHO ATTEMPTED TO ASSASSINATE ME -THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY?!_"

Vales' mandibles began to twitch in annoyance. _(This farce is irritating) _"Because he did not attempt to assassinate you."

The Prophet of Pity started breathing heavily; venting his anger "You know," The Prophet of Pity chuckled "I -the holy Prophet of Pity- _actually knew _this would happen. _(I doubt that) _That is why I -the holy Prophet of Pity- took the precautions."

Vale heard the familiar sound of a Type-52 Mauler firing, and snapped his body around to see a couple of Jiralhanae Stalkers uncloaking, and a large gaping hole in Skae 'Kuzomees' head with purple blood gushing out. _(NO!) _Vale let out a roar of shock and anger as he ran to attack the Stalkers but only to have something hit him in the back of his head before he could even move, and to have him fall to the ground to see that a Stalker had ambushed him from behind.

"_Holy Prophet of Pity!_ _What is the meaning of this?!_" Vale heard Careekius exclaim in shock while also hearing shots go off with Sangheili roars which must had meant that the Stalkers were executing the Honor Guards. _(By the Gods! Is he really so foolish?!)_

Vale let out a pained grunt, but found that he could not moved. It was likely that he was paralyzed; Stalkers were trained to do so for their covert missions and operations.

"_SILENT!_" The Prophet of Pity screamed at Careekius "You will now beat the Fleet-Master until he dies. Resistance will be met with execution and removal from the path."

Careekius let out a reluctant grunt. _(Do it!) _Vale wanted to desperately tell Careekius to ignore any personal feelings he had, and beat him. Vale would not die, he knew that other would had heard the weapon fire and roars, and would come to see what was happening. Vale would then detain the Prophet of Pity for murder and heresy along with many other crimes.

"Your word is the Gods' will." Careekius reluctantly gave in and approached Vale where he quickly landed a heavy kick into Vales' ribs; sending pain rocking through Vales' body. He than quickly landed another kick into Vales' ribs as the Prophet of Pity let out a loud giggle of amusement.

_(This will not go unanswered; I will have your head mounted on a spike for all the Covenant to see. Skae, I promise you vengeance)_

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**ArmoredFury, I am so sorry for killing your OC off! But fear not, for even in death your character will have a major impact on Vale and his journey. Not to mention that since Vale knows a lot about Skae's past there will still be character development.**

**I'm also planning on changing my writing style from a narrative perspective to the actual perspective of the character; similar to that in the prologues. I think this might give more insight in what the character is actually thinking, and will introduce more detail. Since I'm an aspiring writer (One of my many dreams) I find it's alright to experiment. So this FanFic is sort of an experiment, so my writing style and that may change a bit as I adapt to what suits me. If you don't like it, then you likely haven't reached this A/N because you would've quit long ago.**


	24. Special One: The Deceased

**As I am writing this, I have 104 reviews. And since I have reached the milestone of 100 reviews, I decided to do a simple special, though it was anything but simple. My original plans for this special was to have a couple of one-shots focusing on the POVs of each significant character that has died so far. But I found it increasingly hard to focus and work out small story-lines for the several characters, and it got so bad that I hardly got anything done during the time I had to work on this because I spent too much time thinking about what I was going to do for the characters.**

**So I ultimately decided to scrap the whole thing -the whole thing was over 8000 words- and restart. But instead of doing one-shots that focuses on the POV of the characters, I would instead do something like letters or messages or documents to develop a bit of the character's back-stories, similar to Conversations from the Universe booklet that came with the Halo 2 Limited Collector's Edition.**

**I am honestly, extremely grateful for all your reviews! 100 reviews is a milestone for any FanFic writer -big or small! And it's your continuous support that makes me want to continue because I wouldn't want to continue if I found that no one was really enjoying this, and I would just scrap it. So I thank you all for your reviews and kind words!**

**PS. I fixed a plot-hole that stated that Thel 'Lodamee put Doctor Halsey to sleep with anesthetics before putting her into cryo sleep. This is false to the lore which dictates that Halsey was already in cryo sleep when Thel 'Lodamee captured her. I apologize for these plot-holes centered around the Battle of Miridem, but the battle isn't clearly recorded in the Halo lore, and the original Halo wiki that I used to research the battle didn't go into as much detail as another wiki that I'm currently using that goes into a lot more detail.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Urse 'Vadamee...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee.<em>

_Fleet-Master, what your eyes behold is the full assessment on Sangheili Minor Urse 'Vadamee.  
>I hope these details will assure you that he is worthy to be a member of your task team of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion.<em>

_Urse 'Vadamee was born in Vadam Keep in the State Vadam on the continent of Yermo on the Sangheili home-world of Sanghelios.  
>He was raised by his maternal uncle Ave 'Vadamee, and, along with every other child of Vadam Keep, was tutored by his uncle in Sangheili history and culture while trained, along with every other child of Vadam Keep, in the art of war by Lak 'Vadamee, a prime Zealot in his time.<br>At an early age, Urse showed signs of being a great soldier; excelling in all his lessons and training, and defeating all his training comrades in battle while always completing lessons before anyone else._

_With such a successful young life in his history, it would had been expected for him to go far in the military. That was, however, not the case, for Urse 'Vadamee, while effective, could not pass the rank of Minor due to his own personal tactics._

_While in combat, he engaged the Humans from behind cover, and never charged them. While this was effective at keeping him alive, it also prevented him from receiving praise from his superiors, and they called him a coward who did no have the heart to die honorably, even though he has killed many Humans with his tactical style.  
>But due to his tactical style appearing more and more like he was a skilled in ranged combat, two cycles ago he was recommended as a sniper for a reconnaissance team, and was gladly excepted.<br>Now in a position he was comfortable with, Urse 'Vadamee surprisingly excelled as a sniper. Though he still never passed the rank of Minor due to his recon team leader's dislike of him.  
>The recon team leader has since been executed for the crime of letting personal conflicts divide loyalties, a very serious crime.<br>With his team under a new command, he served in the recon team for another three segments before we recruited him._

_His combat record shows that he has killed three hundred and ninety-four Humans with a type-50 particle beam rifle.  
>Three hundred and twenty-eight of which were killed with a fatal head-shot.<em>

_This is what gained my interest in him, for there was hardly any sniper in the Covenant military, other than a Kig-Yar, that could match his sniping skills. And as the recon missions he was sent on got less dangerous, and his role was lessened, he was a prime target to take with no negative consequences to appear out of our decision to choose him._

_Now, with such a great record, I hope you agree on our decision._

_He is currently being briefed on his task at High Charity, and should be transferred to your fleet within the next mini-segment._

_By my own hands: Minister of Reliquary Dominion._

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadamee.<em>

_Thel, it has been a while, but know that I have yet to forget about you._

_As an older sibling would do for a younger sibling, you always advised in your spare time, always assisted me with the lessons that Lak would instruct upon me.  
>I do not believe I have ever properly thanked you for your advising of me.<br>It is because of you that I have been reassigned to an elite team of operatives under the command of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion. And this is not the greatest of the news.  
>The greatest of the news is that I will be serving under the one and only Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee, your close friend.<em>

_You always used to send me letters about Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee; telling me how you admired and respected him as a military Commander who was a master of strategy and tactics. And how he may one day rival your own renown._

_Dearest brother, it has been years since me have seen each other. And I say without hesitation that I miss you.  
>As much as my uncle and Lak raised me, you helped me so as well. And I was overjoyed when I heard that you were elected as Kaidon.<em>

_I hope that we soon will see each other again.  
>I have heard tales of your feats against the Humans, and your skills at cleansing them.<br>You are without a doubt one of the greatest Sangheili that are currently living. And it is an absolute honor to call you friend. But I just hope to the Gods that you still call me friend in turn._

_I also must mention my faith in you.  
>We are only discovering Human planets through your efforts. And if your skills at exploration are as good as the tales say, then I have no doubt in my mind that you will lead us to the Halo rings, and start the Great Journey.<em>

_The cycles are long, and the war against the Humans has raged for many of these long cycles. But I have faith that you will be the one to end this war, and cleanse the Humans from this Universe, and start the Great Journey._

_Do not be afraid to make my faith in vain.  
>Whether or not you cleanse the Humans or start the Great Journey does not matter to me. For you will always be my brother, whether we are of the same blood or not.<em>

_By my own hands: Minor Urse 'Vadamee._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Rek 'Galravee...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Rek 'Galravee.<em>

_Usually the task with securing Forerunner installations, facilities, structures or recovering Forerunner artifacts comes down to the responsibility of the Ministry of Fervent Intercession.  
>But several Zealots leading a small team of elites from various other Covenant race's would not be able to defeat the often large detachments that the heretical Humans send to guard said artifacts or facilities.<em>

_This is where the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion comes into effect.  
>Albeit the teams of the Ministry do not consist of many Zealots, it does consist of various elite warriors from all stretches of the Covenant Empire.<br>But with not many Zealots to uphold the legally discreet operations that the teams of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion partake in, there is the chance of the purity of the holy Covenant religion coming at risk._

_This is where the Ministry of Abnegation will come into play, Rek Galravee._

_You have served as a loyal Ascetic for many cycles. But now, I must task you with a difficult mission.  
>I have gotten the Hierarchs permission to forge you a combat history record in order to get you assigned to one of the many teams serving under the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion.<br>Fear not, you are not the only Ascetic to be assigned to a team; there will be a single Ascetic assigned to each team under the service of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion._

_The Ministry of Reliquary Dominion are fully aware of this operation, of course. But that is where it ends.  
>Only Hierarchs, me and Vice Minister of Abnegation and Minister and Vice Minister of Reliquary Dominion, and the Ascetics participating know about this operation. And it is to stay this way under the punishment of execution.<em>

_Your combat history report states that you are a Veteran Major who has killed countless Humans, an expert leader, and a prime swordsmen.  
>Thankfully these reflect on your own skills as an expert leader of Ascetic detachments, and an expert swordsmen.<em>

_With these major details being heeded by you, I will send the rest of your forged combat history report withing the next rotation.  
>In the mean time, you are to prepare yourself for this task<em>

_By my own hands: Minister of Abnegation._

* * *

><p><em>For the eyes of my sibling: Rez 'Galravee.<em>

_What does it take to be a warrior?_

_Commitment? loyalty? honor?_

_We Sangheili are sworn to protect the San 'Shyuum, and uphold the Covenant until our dying breath._

_I shall repeat the ancient sermon that we Sangheili have taken as our definition._

_"All who walk the blessed path will find salvation... even in death."_

_"This was the Prophets age-old promise that shall be fulfilled._

_And we fought hard for this promise, for we lived by the creed that said "Station and Salvation both commanded a heavy price."_

_But we gripped our blades and told those who feared the darkness "Out of the darkness, these blades will light our way." And to that, they ceased their fear, knowing that the Sangheili would safeguard those who walk the blessed path._

_We stood behind the Prophets and prayed "Glory and honor guide our ascension," which the Prophets turned to look at those behind them, and thanked us for our loyalty._

_And what loyalty we had for the Prophets, for every Sangheili remembers the words "On the blood of our fathers. On the blood of our sons. We swore to uphold the Covenant!"_

_But the Prophets responded with out loyalty with a simple sentence that defined the Covenant "The true devotee honors our name with actions, not words."_

_So we fought to uphold the Prophets words on the battlefield. Why the battlefield? Because we remember the Sangheili philosophy "Victory is secured, not from the throne, but from the front lines."_

_We fought and died for the holy Prophets. And how we let blood spill in their name. And for our service, they honored us with but a few words which defined us ever onward "With this sacrament of blood we journey into the Divine Beyond."_

_With the spilling of our blood being noticed by the Gods, our path on the Great Journey was secure."_

_Remember when our uncle use to tell us this each night? It was a lie._

_I do hope that I may be able to see you again one rotation, and that you would have understood._

_The Covenant, the Forerunners, the Prophets, the Writ of Union, the Great Journey, the Humans, and even our own race, the Sangheili, has all been a lie._

_We have been deceived, used, and lied to for cycles upon cycles. And the only thing that has prevented me from killing myself is my loyalty to Thel 'Lodamee. And while I have yet to tell him of my role as an Ascetic who was tasked to spy on him, I know that he will forgive me; he is smart, he likely already knows that I was a spy._

_I spent so long in the Ascetics. But now I realize what it takes to be a warrior. And I realize that I was born to be a warrior, and it is my destiny to stand on the front-lines of the genocide of the San 'Shyuum; not the Humans._

_I only hope that we can expose the truth in time. And since I will not be able to see you for a while after the truth is revealed, I will send this message instead._

_I decided to write this letter before we exposed the truth, while we were waiting for salvation on a Halo ring, to make sure this message was ready for when the time came for me to send it to you._

_Know that I miss you, and I want nothing more than to be with you when you find out the truth, and to assure you that it will be okay._

_As I write this, I am a warrior._

_I hope to see you soon: Major Rek 'Galravee, a sibling, a knower of the truth, and a warrior._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Sheila-065...<span>**

* * *

><p><span>[RECORD: [Dr. Catherine. E . Halsey: SN: CC-409871] No. 0185 [2519: 3409/1026/21s]

[TOPIC: Sierra: Sheila-065, Sierra: Red-098's relationship]

[SITUATION: BRAVO 17]

[CLASSIFIED: ALPHA ONE: ONI-SEC-PRTCL-1A]

[RECORD: BEGIN]

_Red's recent actions have yielded even more negative consequences for himself..._

_All the other SPARTAN-IIs refuse to interact or even speak with Red out of hate... All except Sheila -who is by far Red's closet friend._

_Jorge -another one of Red's closest friends- has also chosen not to speak to Red... but knowing Jorge he will eventually choose to speak to Red soon. The rest will take... longer._

_But what interests me is Red and Sheila's relationship... Sheila thinks of every SPARTAN as her siblings due to her idea on the "SPARTAN family" while Red thinks everyone as his comrades -except Sheila and Jorge who he considers a close friend._

_But I have feeling that Sheila is... more to him than just a "Friend" Of course, he might have a crush on her which I greatly disapprove- no... that's not it... Red isn't the type, and it goes against his desire to "Become a machine to spite me"_

_He opens up to Sheila because of his fraternal sister. And I have confirmed through Courtney Jsarez's file that she looks... "similar" to Sheila._

_So... this is why Red seems to open up to her -and I mean open up to her literally which I can confirm via the cameras set up in the barracks, and what Red has been saying to Sheila._

_Red seems to confine himself to the barracks when he isn't training... and Sheila often does so too._

_And what they talk about surprises me of what people of their age usually talk about. This is evidence that the SPARTANs have matured more than any other child of their age._

_One of the first things Sheila asked Red after the incident was -and I quote "Why'd you do it?" Red then responded with -again, quote "To spite her... to spite Doctor Halsey. She can't have it both her ways; she can't have me as a killing machine who will do what he is ordered without question, and hope for me to remain Human."_

_I have no doubt that Red knows of the cameras set up in the barracks, and it is possible that he is speaking to me through Sheila. But I seriously doubt that over the other conversations he has had with Sheila that seems irrelevant for me to hear._

_Sheila often reassures Red that the rest of the SPARTANs will speak to him again... But he just "Shrugs it off" saying: "I don't care if they speak to me; they're stupid enough to be brainwashed by Halsey's bullshit, so I don't care about them."_

_Again, his wording makes him sound a lot older than he is. And it upsets me at the though of me brainwashing them... They were... irrelevant._

_Often Red will return to the barracks after receiving physical discipline from Mendez, he will immediately fall asleep after chatting a bit with Sheila about training and other stuff -relevant to the SPARTAN-II Program, that is; I could not imagine the SPARTANs talking about anything else. And when Red had fallen asleep, Sheila would proceed to... examine Red's bruises for damage as he sleeps -even though she knows the medics would had already examined him..._

_I find this touching to some extent. Even though Sheila has been... "Brainwashed" by the SPARTAN-II Program, and is -in Red's opinion- an idiot, she still cares deeply for him..._

_But what is the prime thing of my interest here is how Red is opening up to Sheila; telling her how he feels, what he thinks, etc... There is currently no records of him doing so with anyone else... And he won't even talk to Mendez about his emotions -which Mendez endorse for the SPARTANs to do so, but most of the SPARTANs talk to me instead._

_I won't approach Sheila and ask he to spy on Red -so don't ask me to; I don't want to put her in an uncomfortable position, and I don't need to since the only time Red opens up to Sheila is when they are alone in the barracks where I can monitor them..._

_...Hmm... "Brainwash?"... I'm a mother to every SPARTAN... but Red -who thinks me a monster... I had this coming._

[RECORD: END]

* * *

><p><span>[MJOLNIR MARK IV: HUD89RS: 25443/6/1037/49s: ALERT: Sierra-065 Status-KIA: Recording End: 57s]

Unknown Major Class Elite: Search the area for survivors, and look for that Human female.

_Distant Unknown Class Elites scatter out searching for Human survivors while Unknown Major Class Elite deactivates Type-1 energy sword and holsters it on right thigh before kneeling next to body of Sierra-065._

Unknown Major Class Elite: Why did you have not the honor to fight me? You may have beaten me if you did.

_Unknown Major Class Elite pushes up on its' knees to stand up before walking two feet away from the body of Sierra-065 before turning around to gaze upon the body of Sierra-065._

Unknown Major Class Elite: The mythical Demons can be killed so easily? Or are you the weak one of the pack? No, a Demon cannot be weak. But I will not say that I am powerful enough to best one. Something I may dwell on... perhaps...

_Unknown Major Class Elite clicks its' mandibles in confusion before rubbing them with its' left hand, possibly musing._

Unknown Major Class Elite: It is wrong to talk to your dead comrades -let alone talk to your dead enemy. And especially so if that enemy is a soulless Demon built only to halt the Great Journey. But why do I feel so inclined to speak to you? Why do I care?

_Unknown Major Class Elite moves back over to body of Sierra-065 and kneels over the body of Sierra-065 again._

Unknown Major Class Elite: I must be disappointed that you did not kill me; why? Not because I wanted to die. But because you strike fear into the heart of the Covenant. And I -a simple Major- defeated you easily... I hope whatever hell you are burning in that you-

[RECORD: END]

* * *

><p><strong><span>Literus...<span>**

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Chieftain Literus.<em>

_Chieftain, upon hearing of your unflinching loyalty to us, the Prophets and voice of the Gods, I, the holy Prophet of Pity, deemed it necessary to inform you of a dire truth.  
>The Forerunners, our Gods, made a mistake. They did not pick the members of the Covenant as the Reclaimers, but they chose the Humans, a mistake we must pay for.<br>The reason we went to war with Humanity is not because of them desecrating our God's artifacts that they left behind, oh no, it is because the Forerunners have told us of their mistake, and wish us to end Humanity before we begin the Great Journey._

_Now, we of course could inform the Covenant of this. But how might the Sangheili react? They will no doubt want to contact the Humans themselves; observe and study them to see if what we say is the truth.  
>We also can not tell them now after so long of keeping it a secret.<em>

_So there is only one option, the Jiralhanae._

_The Sangheili are loyal, but they will break their loyalty to the Covenant at a moments notice if they be us to of betrayed them.  
>That leads to the ultimate sacrifice; the Sangheili must one day, before the Great Journey starts, be forcefully removed from the path, and replaced by your race.<br>It is no secret that few Jiralhanae follow the Covenant religion. But those who do will still reach Paradise and be saved from this doomed existence.  
>Due to your race's loyalty to us over anything else, I, the holy Prophet of Pity, have deemed it necessary to inform to of your future value.<br>You are my, the holy Prophet of Pity's, most treasured instrument. And while the High Prophet of Truth may wish me dead for me, the holy Prophet of Pity, telling you this, I, the holy Prophet of Pity, already see that you are loyal, and find it unnecessary to wait any longer._

_I, the holy Prophet of Pity, order you to keep this valuable information to yourself and your most trusted members of your pack along with those who are to guard me._

_I, the holy Prophet of Pity, also order you to calm your aggression; especially since I, the holy Prophet of Pity, and you and your pack are being assigned to the Second Fleet of Divine Trinity which is being led by a Sangheili who is renowned for his misplaced compassion for the lesser races of this holy Covenant.  
>Although I, the holy Prophet of Pity, do not blame you for your much understood rage from your personal past, I, the holy Prophet of Pity, do ask you to maintain it a bit better for the Fleet-Master of this fleet may ask questions that will leave him with little respect, for even I, the holy Prophet of Pity, will admit that your past is too dark for the weak.<em>

_I, the holy Prophet of Pity, bid you good tidings for this rotation. And I, the holy Prophet of Pity, demand that you heed my, the holy Prophet of Pity's, words accordingly._

_By my, the holy Prophet of Pity's, own hands: the noble and most holy Prophet of Pity._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Var 'Lultamee..<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Mind-Tender Merek 'Susamee<em>

_Let begin first off by saying that it is a great dishonor on my part to be contacting you. But Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee has assured me that no dishonor will come out of contacting you for this problem of mine, and I am inclined to believe him.  
>Still, as a Mind-Tender, I order you to keep what will be spoken between us to yourself.<br>Failing to comply with my request will be met with legal execution for betrayal of subjects' trust._

_As you may had heard, not a mini-segment ago, Ultra Thel 'Lodamee and his team under the service of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion went missing.  
>I personally did not like the Ultra. But that does not make me un-sympathetic to him; he is still my brother along the path, and comrade.<br>Two rotations after the team went missing, I was making my way through a corridor to the Fleet-Master's quarters when I overheard three Unggoy maintenance workers jesting about the teams' possible fate in a mocking manner.  
>This enraged me so that I killed the three Unggoy while also killing the nearby innocent Unggoy during my blinding rage.<em>

_The Fleet-Master has informed me of his disappointment in me, and has requested that I receive aid in controlling my anger.  
>I initially refused due to the dishonor of it. But eventually accepted after he stated that he would have no choice but to assign me back to High Charity if I was to refuse, and assured me that there is no dishonor in asking for help with mind problems.<em>

_So heeding his words, I have sent this message requesting your guidance and other various methods of assistance.  
>I will follow through with all the necessary tasks to cleanse my mind of this fault, and ask that you reply with a designated time and date that we may meet and begin the process of mind cleansing.<em>

_By my own hands: Zealot Var 'Lultamee._

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: noble and most holy Prophet of Pity.<em>

_Noble and most holy Prophet of Pity, voice of the Covenant and our Gods, this is my report on the execution of the bastard Zealot: Var Lultamee._

_He put up a worthy fight for his pathetic race. But I shall explain the fight soon._

_Let me start at the beginning._

_I was rather surprised to see him enter the Forerunner compound that surrounded the base of the floating tower that was beautiful to gaze at. And I realized that your efforts to prevent any Sangheili from entering the compound must had, with all respect, failed._

_Fear not, for I handled the Sangheili bastard with care._

_Upon entering the compound, he approached me and I informed him of where we gathered and stacked the bodies of the Heretics. And after scolding me for such disrespect as to touch a Sangheili body, he proceeded into the Forerunner facility where I had my men stack the bodies of the Heretics, and I ordered my follow pack members follow closely suit._

_As me and my follow pack members entered the single room in the facility that we gathered and stacked the bodies in, we saw that the Zealot was standing over the body of a Major class Sangheili who was almost split in half by a plasma mortar, and had shock on his ugly face._

_He then turned to us and, in his words, said "So, that is how it is, you barbarian bastards." The Zealot then wasted no time in drawing his energy sword and attacking us, dodging the projectiles from our weapons with his speed._

_But since he only had a sword, he had to get close to us to attack us. And with that in mind, I ordered my follow pack members to attack him in unison. This proved to be successful as we managed to knock him over. One of my follow pack members managed to hold his arm down as we laid punches into him to drain his energy shields before I executed him with a single punch to the head, smashing his skull._

_The lasting casualties on our side were five of my follow pack members, but I can easily pass them off as some of the warriors that participated in the battle with the Heretics._

_As per instructed, we did not kill him with any weaponry, and only used spikers and maulers to try and bring his shields down from range, but ultimately did not use them for very long before we managed to bring him down._

_After he was killed, we discreetly moved his body to a Guider where we transported him two units away from the tower where me and four of my follow pack members feasted on his flesh, and buried his bones._

_All of the Heretic's bodies have since been destroyed by plasma melting; there is no remaining evidence. This is as per law for Heretic bodies, and the Fleet-Master should not raise any questions about it._

_I hope I did everything according to your instructions, and ask that if I did something wrong, you only punish me and not my follow pack members who assisted me as they were only following my orders, and did nothing wrong._

_By my own hands: Captain Ultra Barrakus._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Jol 'Turasee...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Lyai 'Turasee.<em>

_It has been eighteen cycles, has it not?_

_I miss you dearly, I miss the little amount of time we spent together._

_While many Sangheili do not become husband and wife for love but to continue their line, I believe that you chose me as a husband out of the love we share deeply with each other._

_All those times we used to embrace each other on the beach near our hut just outside the Keep as the sun of Sanghelios set still lingers eagerly in my mind. And it reassures me that we will someday continue the trend._

_But there is the strong possibility of me being killed in combat against the Humans, as I have said so many times before in messages to you. And if that comes to pass, do not lose yourself in grief. Instead, look forward eagerly for the Great Journey's start where we will see each other again in Paradise._

_But I sincerely hope that this does not come to pass. Because as you said, the Great Journey may not start for many, many cycles yet, and you may face the Eternal Darkness yourself before the Great Journey begins._

_I remember how you made me promise to return back to Sanghelios to be with you. And I will never give up on that promise. Albeit my duty comes first, I will always do my best to survive this great war._

_I hope you will reply, and tell me how your mother has been._

_I remember when your mother used to dislike me because of your decision for a union between us. And how your mother would have preferred you to become the wife of one of the many Ultras that were offering themselves to you._

_But never forget how happy I am that you accepted me over a high position. And I am glad that, after so long, your mother finally came to respect and like me. I just wish I could have spent more time with her before my deployment, for she was a lovely female, and she had a beautiful daughter._

_Now, I should mention some exciting news._

_Due to my tactical prowess on the battlefield, I have been recruited by the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion to serve on a team of elite Covenant warriors that will be tasked with securing Forerunner facilities or artifacts if there are too many Humans guarding the facilities and artifacts for a Zealot team from the Ministry of Fervent Intercession to handle._

_It does not end there as I will also be serving in the Second Fleet of Divine Trinity, under the command of Vale Nar 'Sarasee, one of the most skillful strategic tacticians in the Covenant Empire._

_I do not know if I shall get to meet him personally, but it matters not; I shall still get just as much praise from the members of the Keep back home for just serving under him._

_I hope you are proud of me. And I cannot wait to see you again, and hold you under Sanghelios's sun as I always do._

_By my own hands: Minor Jol 'Turasee._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Malcolm Smith...<strong>

* * *

><p>(..<span>[UNSC Transmission]<span>-[CODE-68388-290-80014-MK]..)

(..[ENCRYPTION CODE:]-[CHARLIE HOTEL]..)

(..[PUBLIC KEY]-[File/ OCTOBER-Eight-Two-Five-Six-One]..)

(..[DATE:]-[4/11/2547]..)

(..[FROM:]-[Captain Courtney Jsarez]-[SN:24030-55578-CJ]-[UNSCMID: 141592610]..)

(..[TO:]-[Rear Admiral: Henry Nathan]-[SN:73912-61630-HN]-[UNSCMID: 831740218]..)

(..[SUBJECT:]-[Corporal Malcolm Smith]..)

(..[CLASSIFICATION:]-[EYES-ONLY]-[Title II, Subtitle C, Sec. 312]

[TRANSMISSION:]-[BEGIN]

_Admiral, unfortunately the Universe is smaller than I'd like, so it was only a matter of time until we were assigned to assist in the EVAC of civilians from a minor planet that one of my Marine's families resided on._

_The Covenant's attack on Quaint is lethal, effective, and won't last much longer; their Commander must know what it's doing._

_And the EVAC of civilians planet-side is not going well with the Covenant putting down tremendous pressure on our ground-forces located within the cities, and shooting EVAC shuttles out of the sky as soon as they leave their hangers, bays, compounds, ect._

_One such shuttle contained the family of Corporal Malcolm Smith._

_Malcolm Smith's family that were killed consisted of his mother and father -aged 54 and 53- Smith's aunt -aged 50- her daughter -aged 31- Smith's wife -aged 31- and his two sons -aged 13 and 15._

_Upon hearing of his families demise, he acted to the contrary of what an effective soldier should act like; breaking down emotionally, screaming and yelling his lunges out, lashing out physically at his teammates, etc._

_Of course I can't blame him from breaking down at the news immediately upon hearing it. But he could had done something better than attacking the teammates who tried to comfort him, or lock himself in the bathroom where he threatened to kill anyone who tried to break in with his M6C PDW._

_Corporal Malcolm Smith has since been apprehended, and I have agreed with my COs to let him continue service due to him calming down over the twenty-four hours he was held in solitary confinement._

_He has since reduced his aggression greatly, and confined himself for his breakdowns. But he keeps requesting that he is sent ground-side to engage Covenant ground-forces._

_I denied his requests, of course. At least up until this morning when I was ordered -by you- to send my Marines planet-side to engage the Covenant occupying the city of Reaztine._

_I have since received disturbing reports that Smith has been reckless in combat, and has even mutilated Covenant corpses during the time he is not engaged in combat._

_This disturbs me greatly, and I believe he has PTSD and other various psychological problems due to his family's demise._

_I have sent this transmission in advance of my request to have Corporal Malcolm Smith removed from service and counseled ASAP. And I recommend that you approve of my request before the consequences of letting him continue serving the UNSCDF surface._

[TRANSMISSION]-[END]

* * *

><p><span><strong>May Christina...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I may be laying in my bed, dying. But I still have the strength to use my damned cyber hand I have.<em>

_Speaking of cyber hand: the murder of that Mob Boss cunt by the name of "Alphonsai" Was issued by me; that's right, I hired and paid an assassin. That's what people get when they have my hand cut off after I accidentally hurt their cock while giving them a handjob._

_I was once a whore... a prostitute. Amazingly enough I was also once a teacher -a bad teacher at that. But I don't care if I was a bad teacher; I got the cocks of young, horny stud muffins and teachers shoved up my hole._

_Those were the good old days. Now I here I am, dying like the fucking old cunt I am. And I bet those reading this are expecting something nice in my will?_

_Nope! All my fortune and property is going to my favorite stud -who is already rich as fuck, and isn't complaining. I couldn't care more about my shithead kids that the people I fucked as a whore dumped on me because of their use of a faulty condom brand whose CEO I also had assassinated since I got so rich over winning that stupid fucking lotto._

_I hope my horrific kids that I had to raise as blabbering babies are killed by those damned alien freaks. And I hope all my other relatives die horrible deaths as well, because... why the fuck now? I get to die peacefully surround by wealth with the only flaw being my useless family that surrounds me, crying over my demise. It seems only fitting that everyone else I know dies horribly as one last "Fuck you!" from me._

_I've lived a good life. So good, that I just frankly can't care about anyone, because the people I'm meant to care about only made my life ever so more annoying._

_I've hated everything other than myself in life. And at times I even hated myself._

_I fucked, I laughed, I tormented, I swore, I was hated, these are the things that made me happy._

_The things that made me mad are the two little shits that are called "Kids" that I pumped out of my pussy and the fact that people often thought I was a good person. Well news flash! I'm not a good fucking person! And I prefer it this way! Because without love, I can enjoy life to its' fullest. Just be fucking glad I didn't hire any assassins to torture you as a parting gift._

_Those fucking docs diagnosed me with mental problems. I had no mental problems -zero! All I had was the intelligence you say "Fuck you!" to everyone and everything while enjoying life to its' fullest -as I've already said again and again and again._

_Now, if you fuckers are offended by this parting message, and don't follow through with burying me in that big fucking crypt that I wanted, assassins are going to tortured yous to death. And don't think I'm bluffing; I made sure that they knew where I was to be buried, and if that changes, your dead -even that little grandchild of mine who always asks me for candy when my fucking son decides to dumper her on me._

_It's amazing how unbelievably fucked up I am. But like I said: I don't give a fuck. I'm a generic, unrealistic fucking villain from a fucking Disney movie, and I couldn't care less. I loved my life, and I hate all yous._

_Now, by the time your reading, I'll be dead. Whether I go to the fake Heaven or Hell is to be determined. But surely if there was a God he would admire me for being so free, right?_

_I hope you all live a terrible life and die horrible painful deaths. And without my financial support, you'll all end up living on the street -which I can only smile at._

_Syonara motherfuckers!_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Skae 'Kuzomee...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Vale 'Sarasee.<em>

_I apologize for taking up your time to read this, if you are reading this, that is.  
>If you are reading this, I must thank you, and apologize that I could not speak to you personally; my deployment officer is forbidding me from leaving his sight due to my recent arrest.<em>

_You will not know who I am. And so, I shall introduce myself.  
>I am Skae 'Kuzomee.<br>I publicly voiced my outcry at the Kuzom Loyalist's actions. And in doing so, I was seized and imprisoned in Kuzom Keep.  
>I remained a prisoner until you marched on the State and settled this conflict before it could turn to violence.<br>As soon as your word was heeded, me, along with every other prisoner that voiced their outcry or protested, was freed from our cells.  
>Sadly, you were already gone from the State by the time I was released, so I could not personally thank you.<em>

_The only reason I sent this message is because you have a reputation of being kind-hearted, and close to your soldiers and people of your State.  
>With this in mind, I decided it not a problem to send you this message, and I ask that you inform me in a reply if you disapprove.<em>

_No other Lineage that was allied with ours seemed to want to help. And if it was not for you, I would had certainly been executed when the violence started.  
>I owe you my life. And I hope that I will one-day get to repay you.<em>

_You are a blessing; sent to us by the Forerunners. And while I do not let religion blind my words, I do agree that such a Sangheili like you has to be a gift born by out of the Gods secret and most welcomed meddling.  
>If you are not what I have called you, then you are simply the perfect Sangheili.<em>

_I will likely become a tutor for the children of the Keep I reside in due to my knowledge; the Elders themselves seem to think so. And I will bring the children I tutor up on the knowledge on how Sangheili heroes like you exist._

_Forgive me for my mindless praising. But, with all due respect, you cannot comprehend my gratitude for you._

_With all this said, I shall waste no more of your time._

_By my own hands: Skae 'Kuzomee._

* * *

><p><em>To thine own eyes: Sangheili members of the Second Fleet of Divine Trinity.<em>

_I know that I am the last being in the Universe that you would like to hear this from. But my perspective on your race is not negative, and I find your race's culture not something I want to get in the way of my judgement._

_Let me start by apologizing for my beating of Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee. But he and I both knew that if I refused, and was executed by the Prophet of Pity, there would be no one left to maintain order between the Jiralhanae who decided to follow the orders of the heretic Prophet of Pity. It is due to my actions that this fleet has not already fallen apart from inner conflict._

_You can hate me all you want. But when and if the Fleet-Master awakens, he will reassure you that I did the right thing. I have known the Fleet-Master long enough to know that he would sacrifice his life willingly for any of you. And this was no exception._

_Now, the real meaning of this message is concerning Skae 'Kuzomee._

_Although I did not know the Honor-Guards, I did personally know Skae 'Kuzomee to some extent._

_From what I picked up from Skae 'Kuzomee is that he was loyal, kind to the minor races along the path, passionate about staying loyal to your people's culture and customs, friendly, was against racism, and was in deep gratitude to the Fleet-Master._

_Skae told me of a major event that happened to the 'Kuzomee Lineage thirteen cycles ago. And I will not lie: I enjoyed hearing about your people's history._

_Skae was a Sangheili that I could had become friends with. And I will make sure his needless death is paid for._

_So far the Jiralhanae Stalkers that ambushed and killed him along with the Honor-Guards and the Ultra Captains that ate the Honor-Guards and Skae's bodies during the ensuring chaos have been apprehended and detained. And they will remain so until the Fleet-Master awakens and decides their fate, or, if worse comes to worse and the Fleet-Master does not awaken, the High Council decides their fate along with the fate of the imprisoned Prophet of Pity._

_When the Prophet of Pity faces the High Council, I will willingly speak against him in honor of those who have died in this senseless act made by him._

_I would also like to announce that tonight a sermon will be held in the meal hall in honor of the innocent that have died during this senseless conflict. And anyone that personally knows any innocent victim that died during this conflictor the Honor-Guards of Skae himself are invited to give a speech in the honor of the victims._

_But ultimately I wanted to ask for your permission to make a speech in Skae 'Kuzomee's honor. Though most of you may hate the Jiralhanae at this moment, I beg that you let me give the proper honors to one who did not deserve to die._

_I ask this not out of formalities, or to make myself look good. But to honor a truly great Sangheili._

_Your Fleet-Master trusts and respects me, and calls me friend. While I do not ask you to call me friend or respect me. I do ask you to please trust me._

_By my own hands: Chieftain Careekius._


	25. The Indigenous Deus Ex Machina

_To thine own eyes: Major Thel 'Lodamee._

_Upon calculation of your heretical acts, and your successful assistance in exposing Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee: The High Council has deemed only one possible outcome for you._

_This Demon known as the "Master Chief" was within your grasp, yet you failed to kill him.  
>But a Sangheili Major that is able to outmatch the lead Demon in melee combat is definitely a valuable instrument for the Covenant that should not be wasted.<br>But even so, we cannot allow to you continue your service._

_Forgive me; I am getting ahead of myself. I should first start with the fate of Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee.  
>Upon finding considerable and irrefutable proof that you were about to execute the Demon, but was prevented so by the cowardice of Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee: we have decided that the execution of Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee is the most logical action.<em>

_While your evasion of execution is certain, you will not be able to make a claim to execute Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee yourself.  
>But you will still be able to watch his execution if you so desire.<br>Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee's execution will be decapitation and gutting; his head will be paraded around High Charity's streets on the edge of a pike, and his body shall be strung up by its' entrails on the pillars of ultimate punishment.  
>I hope this satisfies your most understandable hatred and rage at Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee.<em>

_Now to your fate:  
>Your execution for crimes out of your control will severely agitate the Sangheili Councilors that are advising and pleading for me and the high Prophet of Truth and Regret to do otherwise.<br>But even though your execution will not happen, we have still decided to remove your spot on the Great Journey, and the Sangheili Councilors have declared that you have no honor.  
>Returning you to service as a Major in the Covenant military is unacceptable and impossible. So is the possibility of you being assigned the position of Arbiter.<br>But your skills in combat will be utilized to the absolute maximum of our abilities to do so._

_You are being promoted to the rank of Sangheili Ultra, and will be assigned as a leader of a team under the service of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion.  
>The team your being assigned to has yet to be announced. But know that the possibility of being assigned to the team stationed in the Second Fleet of Divine Trinity is high. This is good for you as the fleets' Commander, Fleet-Master Vale Nar 'Sarasee, has already shown an interest in you.<em>

_I bid you good tidings, and reassure you that this service will help you reclaim both your honor, and your spot on the Great Journey._

_By my own hands: High Prophet of Mercy._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1204 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard UNSC ****_Kryptonite _****Dropship 77-Troop Carrier: Charlie 4-0, Preparing To Leave UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Hanger-Bay On Priority Mission.**

**Thel 'Lodam...**

* * *

><p>The Human by the name of Tom Harvad took a deep, nervous breath as he leaned back into his seat, and opened his mouth to speak -of what? I did not know "And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, 'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.' And he replied, 'Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way'. So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night, and He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East."<p>

I narrowed my eyes at what I had just heard, and clicked my mandibles together in confusion. It was highly possible that he just repeated a religious poem; resurfacing the fact that the Prophets have lied more about the Humans.

The Prophets told the Covenant that Humanity had no Gods; they were too pathetic and weak to know what true religion was, and even care. They also stated that Humanity's literature work was nothing but a record of their pathetic and disgusting history; nothing more, nothing less. I had no idea that Humanity was capable of such a similar art, and be very skilled at that art as well.

"Who was that?" The Human by the name of Lex Collins asked Tom, taking a seat on the row of seats opposite where Tom, Mary Trinksy, and Peter Call were seated.

Clicking my mandibles in annoyance at my foolish admiration of the Humans, I gripped my carbine harder while gritting my hidden mandibles as I moved through the Human dropships' bay to the doorway that led to the cockpit where I leaned my carbine against the seat to my side before leaning myself on the wall to the right of the doorway that led to the cockpit.

Tom did not answer straight away as he and the rest of the Humans were watching me with cautious eyes as I moved to my new position. But once they were sure I was not going to cause whatever trouble they had in mind, they redirected their eyes were Tom cleared his throat to reply "The Gate of the Year - Minnie Louise Haskins."

"It's always the 21st century shit with you," The Human by the name of Dominic Tedforn remarked in an annoyed tone "I mean," Dominic let out a scoff "do you know _anything _other than 21st century crap?" I wondered what a century was, but easily guessed it must had been a certain Human age; how long ago the age was, I did not know, nor care.

Lex let out a sigh of annoyance "Leave him alone, Thorn." "Thorn" must had been some type of alternative name for him since it had the "TH" sound instead of the "F" sound; perhaps -and very likely- the name was some type of jest.

"Most modern stuff fails to live up to the beauty of classics," Tom replied to Dominic "due to this, I often avoid them; save one."

"Go ahead." Lex gestured for him to continue. I thankfully did not mind their topic, and did not find it annoying. What I _did_ find annoying was my failure at trying to resist listening in on the conversation. But until Anve, Suras, the bastard Kig-Yar, and the combat ready Unggoy finished gearing up, and got here, I was forced to listen to the Human chatter. This group of Humans spoke of better and more logical topics than the other groups of Humans. And they were frankly less loud, aggressive, and friendlier to each other -save Dominic who was quite aggressive.

Tom was about to speak up when Suras and Kri followed by two Unggoy appeared up the ramp and hurried to take their seats with Kri gripping his beam rifle and standing by the ramp of the Human dropship and the two Unggoys -consisting of one wielding a needler with a plasma pistol on his right thigh and two plasma grenades on his back hips, and the other wielding a plasma rifle with a plasma pistol on his right thigh with two plasma grenades on his back thigh- both seated themselves next to Suras who was seated at the very end of the left row of seats, near the ramp. Suras himself was wielding a plasma repeater with a needler on his right thigh, and an energy sword on his left with four plasma grenades on the back of his hips. I guessed that Anve and the other two Unggoy were still preparing.

As soon as Suras, Kri, and the two Unggoy were all seated, and the Humans were confident that there was no trouble, they redirected their eyes back to their conversation. Tom continued: "I don't really want to repeat it, ma'am." I heard the sound of heavy emotion in the tone of Tom; this upset him for some reason.

"Why?" Lex questioned him. It was something that I was curious about. But not enough to warrant me raising the question -I had no need to anyway; the Humans would always raise the questions themselves.

Strangely enough, it was Peter who answered Lex's question -not Tom himself "It's a poem done by his father."

Tom looked up to face Peter, there was no annoyance in his face at Peter answering Lex's question. "Sorry." Lex apologized, remorse in her tone.

"Your father was a poet?" Mary asked Tom, curiosity in her voice. "Was" must had meant that his father was dead; likely by the hand of the fake Covenant.

"Yes -a war poet," Tom confirmed "You're probably thinking that I get my inspiration from him. You're right; he was one of the few modern war poets that kept to the art," Tom let out a sigh "I often find modern-day war poems are filled with propaganda and tales of false heroic deeds; my father kept to the truth with speaking the truth."

"The Reclaimers indulge in poetry?" Suras mused, rubbing his lower mandibles "More lies by the Prophets?"

I decided to join in "Explains why all Human cultural analyzers were San 'Shyuum." The entirety of the dropships' bay turned to look at me, wondering why I decided to join in. I decided to not indulge them, and let them continue to wonder.

"You're planning on becoming a poet yourself?" Lex asked Tom to have him raise his head to face her. I found Tom to be quite shy. Though I could not linger on this thought as I did not know Human personality enough to make such a judgement.

"Yes," Tom confirmed with a nod "That's if I make it home; if any of us make it home."

I decided to break in there and then "Could you _be more _doubtful?" I snapped my hidden mandibles at him in irritation at his ignorance "Want to go home so much that you shall fight at the best of your abilities," Everyone turned to look at me, narrowing their eyes in confusion -no doubt the Humans were surprised by my obviously wise words "And put aside you pathetic, doubtful thoughts, and function as a proper warrior should."

Tom slowly and sadly nodded in reply, and was about to say something when Anve and the other two Unggoy appeared up the ramp and hurried to their positions. Anve had a carbine in his hands with a Human "Rocket launcher" on his back, a plasma rifle on his right thigh, and his energy sword on his left with four plasma grenades and a spike grenade clipped onto the back of his hip. The Unggoy each had a plasma rifle with a plasma pistol holstered on their right thigh and two plasma grenades clipped onto the back of their hips.

I was confused as to why Anve was carting around a Human weapon, and to what the Humans had to do to convince him to cart it around if that was the case.

Last to come in was the Human by the name of Dean White who was carting his Human "Assault rifle" with a Human "Battle rifle" on his back and a Human pistol holstered on his right thing with ammo and grenade pouches covering his belts and vest.

I found Human armor primitive. The use of cloth material must had been due to the limited availability of the resources required to make armor similar to that of the Covenant species' armor. They did have armor plating, though. But it looked heavy. And due to their use of weapons that required ammo clips, they had to cart around their ammo pouches and belts which made them even bulkier. Jiralhanae often carried around ammo pouches and belts due to their use of primitive weapons that required ammo clips. But it was never to this magnetite due to their size.

Sangheili, of course, required ammo clips for certain weapons like the carbine. But ammo pouches were not required, and the clips would be connected to the magnetic strips along our armor. This helped to prevent fumbling to get the required ammo clip, and also allowed no unnecessary belts and pouches to cover our armor; armor was a useful way to intimidate the Human foe, and it needed to be fully seen.

"Clad, we're all aboard." Dean spoke through the "COM" that we were all connected up to thanks to the Huragok's helpful modification to our armors' communication systems.

"Rodger that, sir. Preparing take-off procedures." Tuscany replied over the COM.

The sound of the ramps creaking as they raised made me grit my mandibles in irritation. I gritted my mandibles harder when I realized that without the ramps lowered, there was no way me and my soldiers could jump out of the dropship if the Humans betray us -which I doubted they would do, but it was still a risk that I was cautious about.

Dean let out a sigh as he took his- "Him?" "Her?" "He?" "His?" Why was I referring to the Humans like this? I personally decided that I would only give them the title of gender if they earned my respect -like the Demon did. Was I abandoning this already? Are my Diverted brothers thinking the same? I was a person of logic -even when I did not seem it. And it was illogical to refer to Humans as "It" out of blind, false hatred. I decided I would talk to my Diverted later about this; see what they thought about it.

The dropship rumbled; I could only guess what was happening; likely lifting off the ground.

I did not like being trapped in here with the Humans. Thankfully it would not be for long. The Human ship may had been slow, but a Human dropship would be able to reach the _"Kryptonite's" _destination in less than an hour. This would not be the case as the exit the _Kryptonite _was heading to was not the dropships' destination. We thankfully did not need a large exit for the dropship to leave the all-service tunnel; there were smaller tunnels that Enforcers and Sentinels used. The plan was for the Monitor to open up a maintenance hatch for the dropship to leave the tunnel before quickly closing it again. It was the same plan that was used when the Demon was sent to the Library.

Returning into the all-service tunnel would be just as simple as long as the ships looking for us do not spot us leaving the tunnel. But they thankfully did not the last couple of times we did so. Albeit our luck had been diminishing at a rapid pace, so things could change for the worse.

Things were, however, also changing for the better. The Human Captain had seemed to have suddenly recovered from her state of pain. Though she can still not leave her bed, and needed constant tending to. But she could speak, and even give commands. She originally did not want for this mission to be carried out. But finally agreed to it after the Humans convinced her that the herbs would reduce the agonizing pain she was still in, and there was the possibility of encountering Qrs 'Jaragsai -who would hopefully listen to me.

But the biggest positive of the Human Captain's sudden awaken from her forced and most painful slumber was that the Demon's pain must had ended. The Captain has stated that she can't feel that the Demon is dead through her connection with him that she had because she was his twin sibling. So the Demon was still alive.

The Monarch and the Monitor wasted no time in scanning the ring for the Demon's location. But could not find him -much to the dismay of the Human Captain. I was worried that the Human Captain might put aside leaving this ring in an effort to find the Demon. But she managed to convince us that she would let the Demon die a thousand times before she risked Humanity. She was lying. I could pick up the tone in her voice; something was wrong. She hated her race even more than I did. And upon asking the Monarch to hack into the Humans' ships' systems, and finding out why, I did not blame her, and the dark truth came to me.

I might of needed to kill her.

* * *

><p>It took thirty moments for us to arrive.<p>

From what the Human pilot had told us over the COM, there was an opening in the tree canopy which would allow the dropship to lower itself down into the forest where this herb was located.

I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning on, bent over and picked up my carbine, and approached the ramp where all the others were mustering.

"No contacts on sensor," Amber informed us. This may had been reassuring for the Humans, but it was not for me "I have nothing."

"Active camo makes one immune to your sensors," Anve informed the Humans, his voice echoing over the COM "so there is still the chance that Qrs 'Jaragsai is there."

"Will he be as friendly as you say?" Lex asked Anve.

I was the one to answer "Qrs has a habit of observing his target before attacking. If he observes us long enough, he will figure out who I am, and may attempt to contact me; this is what I hope."

"And if not?" Dean questioned me.

They would not like my answer, but I answered never-the-less "Then we are all dead; no exceptions; there is not a single person here that can kill Qrs or his warriors."

"Then we ain't sticking around; we're not gonna take that risk. We get the herb, then we get out." Dean told me in a stern tone, one that refused argument. I wanted to remain there for a few moments to see if Qrs turns up. But he had a point. And hence, I reluctantly clicked my mandibles in acknowledgement.

The ramp for the Human dropship lowered with me, Suras, and Anve immediately jumping out to hit the ground with a thump.

The Humans did not jump after us as the dropship was still too high for them to jump down without breaking any bones. Kri could, but he decided to remain in the dropship and provide tactical sniper fire. I accused him of being a coward when he told us his plan. But he retorted by saying that it was a tactical decision. This was false for Kri was too dumb to make a tactical decision.

I observed the area. There was fallen logs and large rocks spread around the area that would provide some useful cover if a firefight was to break out. But the long grass provided the perfect cover for ambushing Kig-Yar. But hopefully a fight would not break out as the herb we were looking for was right there.

"Suras, scan the grass," I waved for Suras to move out with him immediately following my orders "Anve," I pointed towards a large towering boulder "provide field over-watch from there."

"Affirmative, Ultra." Anve immediately complied.

The sounds of the six Human feet and four Unggoy feet thumping on the ground as they jumped out of the dropship reassured me that I was covered.

"Collins, support Suras," Dean ordered Lex over the COM "Trinsky, get up on that boulder over there," Dean waved towards the designated boulder with Mary immediately heading over to it "The rest of you, on me." five lights on my HUD blinked green. The Huragok told us -through the translation of the Monarch- that these lights stood for silent complies; Affirmative, Negative, and so on. I found this to actually be smart, and lingered on the thought as to why we had not adopted such a system.

I kept my carbine trained towards the rocks, logs, tree stumps, and trees that the enemy could be hiding behind, moving slowly with the Humans backing me up "Wreckage-one, this is Charlie 4-0," a voice sounded off over the COM "I can't keep the bird floating here; we're lifting out and will continue to scan for hostiles on the sensors; Kri's dropping down, so don't jump -how copy? Over."

I raised my weapon at the sound of leaves rustling, and saw it was just Kri jumping through the tree canopies, his beam rifle raised forward. Dean replied "Charlie 4-0, this is Wreckage-one -solid copy. Out."

I slowly approached the herb. It looked very alien with blue and red petals on it, and thorns along its' stalk "Monarch, is this the herb?" I questioned the Monarch over the COM who was watching through my visor's live-feed -another thing the Huragok installed.

"Affirmative," The Monarch confirmed in its' metallic voice over the COM "Only one plant should be enough. But I recommend you take as much as you can."

"Affirmative," Dean replied over the COM at the Monarch's recommendation as he and his men positioned themselves next to me, gazing at the herb that was on the grassy ground "Harvad, you have the satchel, collect what you can."

"I'm trying to convince myself that me being the herbalist has nothing to do with me growing up on a farm." Tom grumbled as he bent over and began carefully picking the herbs and placing it in his satchel that hung from his shoulder.

Mary's status light just went red just about the same time the Monarch alerted and us by saying "Hostile contact." and me -along with everyone else- immediately raised our weapons towards the boulder Mary was assigned to "Harvad, continue collecting the herb." Dean ordered Tom who had raised his weapon at the boulder. Tom immediately replied by slinging his weapon back over his back and returning his focus back to the herbs.

"Suras, Collins, anything in the grass?" Dean asked over the COM as he, I, Dominic, and two Unggoy slowly approached the towering boulder with the rustling of leaves signalling that Kri was making his way to a snipering position that allowed him to have a clear shot on the boulder.

"Nothing, sir," Lex replied "Heat sensors ain't picking anything up either."

"Wreckage-one, this is Charlie 4-0. We have nothing as well -how copy? Over." Tuscany informed us over the COM.

"Charlie 4-0, this is Wreckage-one -solid copy. Keep an eye out -how copy? Over."

"Wreckage-one, this is Charlie 4-0 -solid copy. Out."

I realized the Monarch may had known what had happened, and quickly raised him over the COM "Monarch, did you see what happened?"

"Negative," The Monarch replied "The attack came from behind, and I cannot conclude how the Reclaimer was eliminated."

"Damn it." Dean muttered. I was surprised at the ability these warriors had at keeping themselves under control after the loss of one of their comrades. It was admiring -to an extent. Pushing these thoughts aside, I raised Anve "Anve, anything?"

"Negative, Ultra," Anve replied "But I might see something if I shift my position."

I immediately replied "Negative; remain where you are until you have no choice but to move, or I order you otherwise."

"Affir- _DAMN!_"

"Anve!" I exclaimed, fear rising through my blood as to his fate. But as an effective soldier, I remained stable, and snapped my aim around to face the boulder Anve was stationed at to see him being thrown over to us by something I could not see.

"Jiralhanae." The Monarch informed us as Anve landed on the ground before me with a thump, letting out a grunt of pain. I quickly helped him up and handed him the plasma rifle I had holstered on my right thigh which he immediately took.

"Everyone, retreat back to the LZ," Dean ordered.

"Anve, Suras, Unggoy! Get back to the dropship's landing zone, now!" I ordered my brothers. The Human may had told everyone to retreat back to the dropships' landing zone, but Anve, Suras, and the Unggoy would not comply with the Human's orders unless I reinforced it.

"White, this is Clad. Spirit inbound -how copy? Over." Clad reported in over the COM.

"Clad, White -solid copy. Get back to the LZ to pick us up -_now_! How copy? Over."

"White, this is Clad -solid copy. ETA to arrival: -50 secs -how copy? Over."

"Clad this is White -solid copy. Out."

"_HARVAD'S BEEN HIT!_" Peter alerted us over the COM.

Carbine and needler rifle rounds began appearing out of nowhere with some hitting my shields "SHIT!" Dean yelled in rage upon hearing the news of Tom being hit, and immediately redirected himself and began running over to Tom who was lying on the ground behind a boulder near where the herbs were with Peter covering him.

"Lance, rally on me." I ordered my warriors as I, Anve, and the Unggoy that were following me shifted from running to the landing zone to towards the boulder that Dean and Dominic were rushing to.

I slid into cover as my shields began to beep in alarm, and quickly observed that Tom was hit by a carbine round in the leg -he was going to die. I wasted no time, and grabbed Dean's arm "He is already dead -we must go."

Dean used his free hand to push my hand off his arm and cocked his head over to Peter as if asking me to look at him. I decided to wait, and watched as Peter pulled some type of medical gun and placed it near the wound on Tom's leg where he pulled the medical guns' trigger to have Tom's limbs reflex as he let out a loud grunt of pain.

"We've adapted to your stupid weapons." Dean informed me. And I instantly knew that Rek would say "That explains a lot!' if he was here.

Tom was groaning in pain. But that did not stop Peter from scooping him up and placing him over his shoulders. I noticed that both Suras, Kri, and Lex had rejoined us, and were leaning out of cover, shooting at the enemy contacts "Lance, retreat back to the landing zone."

I was about to exit my crouched position when a beam round took Peter in the head, sending him flying back into the boulder as he dropped Tom.

"NO!" Dean exclaimed. I snapped my head around to see where the shot came from only to see the Spirit come down through the opening in the tree canopy, lowering its' bay doors to drop off the soldiers aboard; a few Kig-Yar snipers were hanging off of the Spirits' railings, aiming their weapons at us.

One fired, its' beam hit me and depleted my shields. I and the others returned fire, quickly killing the Kig-Yar before they could get a proper aim.

"You," I craned my head around to see Dean pointing at Suras before pointing at the pain stricken Tom "carry him -_NOW!_"

I immediately interjected "No," Dean turned to look at me, the fire of hatred in his eyes "We are already dead. Send your dropship away before they are doomed too, and execute your wounded comrade so he is not captured and tortured." When I was finished speaking, I dropped my carbine, spun around, drew and activated my energy sword, and charged towards the enemy warriors that had just dropped out of the Spirit's bays.

The dropped off warriors turned to face me; it was a Unggoy Lance being led by a Sangheili Ultra. The Ultra saw me, observed that I was ready to duel, and put his gloved hand up to stop his Lance from firing before holstering his plasma rifle and drawing his energy sword before he began to charge towards me.

"ULTRA!" Anve yelled after me.

"THEL! STOP!" Suras also yelled with the Ultra about to duel me stopping in his tracks.

"Thel 'Lodamee?" The Ultra questioned me. A million feelings just erupted in me. But the most recognizable one was hope.

"Yes-_yes_," I confirmed, removing my helmet so he could see my face "You know who I am? Please, you must heed my warning; I am no heretic."

I heard what sounded like active camouflage deactivating, and I craned my head around to see seven Brute Stalkers surrounding the Humans and my warriors, spikers, maulers, needler rifles, and carbines raised at them.

"Wait" The Ultra ordered the Brutes, but spoke in a voice that the Stalkers would not be able to hear, and was oddly not facing the Brutes, but facing something next to him that I could not see. That was until a Brute Captain Stalker decloaked next to the Ultra.

"Keeping Humans and heretics alive is heresy." The Captain Stalker reminded the Ultra in his deep voice; I wanted to kill the pathetic creature right now for its' foolish choice of loyalty to the bastard San 'Shyuum.

The Ultra clicked his mandibles in annoyance at the Captain Stalker "I know that. But Thel 'Lodamee has been missing for segments; the Fleet-Master will want to speak with him as soon as possible." The Ultra told the Captain Stalker.

Seven more Brute Stalkers decloaked around the Ultra. The Ultra and his Lance seemingly did not know they were there as they all jumped when the Brutes appeared "So be it." The Captain Stalker growled, and the Stalkers all opened fire on the Ultra and his Lance.

I roared in rage as I charged at the Captain Stalker, and sliced him in half with my energy sword, his red blood spilling over my armor and skin, cooling me of the heat inside me to some degree.

I spun around to face the Stalker that was finishing off the dead Ultra, and charged at him, slicing his paw off before he could raise his spiker to shoot me before slicing his head off to have red blood squirt all over my face.

I kicked the body of the dead Stalker out-of-the-way and spun around, ready to kill another Stalker only to see the remaining five Stalkers dead on the ground with arrows in them. Confusion flooded me, but I wasted no time in spinning around in order to charge in and assist the others only to see the Stalkers around them dead as well with them looking at the bodies in confusion.

I picked up my helmet that I dropped onto the ground, and raced over to them "What happened?" I questioned them, halting when I reached them.

Anve bent over and pulled the arrow out of the body of a Stalker. I was surprised to see that the tip of the steel arrows were holographic -not metal "Wreckage, this is Charlie 4-0," Clad voiced in over the COM "The Spirit's gone so we're moving in," I turned around and noticed the Spirit was gone; likely taking off after it saw the Brutes turn on the Lance "Fucker didn't even know we were there."

Fear rose through me "_YOU DID NOT DESTROY IT!?_" I exclaimed, my mandibles shaking it fear at the possible answer.

"Why wouldn't I?" Clad replied.

I bought my hand up to my head and smashed it into my forehead in annoyance "_They saw the Brutes betray the Sangheili... they could have warned the Fleet-Master!_" Anger rose in me.

"Sorry." Clad apologized in a remorseful tone. I was inclined to believe that He did not mean His actions. But I was still in rage at the thought of saving the Fleet-Master being taken away from me again.

"Captain," Tom wheezed "can we go home now?"

Dean waved to Suras before pointing at Tom "Pick him up."

I let out a huff as I turned to watch the dropship lower itself down through the opening in the tree canopy.

We had the herbs, and there were only two casualties that were Human. But no sign of Qrs... And what were these Stalkers doing here? Were they tracking us? And was this Spirit patrolling the area but picked up the ruckus of the Brutes engaging us? But most of all... who killed the Brutes?

I raised my head just in time to see a large creature drop out of the trees and land in front of me. I back-stepped and raised my blade as the others raised their weapons.

"Don't attack it!" The Monarch quickly broke in before we opened fire on it "The Monitor is telling me that the creature before you means no harm." I already figured that out after seeing the arrow quiver over its' back; it saved us.

It did not remain an it, and quickly turned into they as Several more of the creatures dropped out of the trees. They were about the size of a Sangheili, had legs like us but clawed feet with a single toe coming down from its' ankle to make its' leg seem as if it was split in half. Its' arms were similar to that of a Kig-Yar with long claws protruding from its' long fingers. It also had the head similar to the of the Kig-Yar from Ibie'sh, but the back of its' head was long, and reached back to its' shoulders. There was a pentagon shaped flap of skin that seemed to cover its' ear holes located just behind its' reptile like eyes. At the tip of the flaps of skin was a spine that went as far back as its' head did, and had a single red feather of the ends of the spines which must had meant it was a bird, but its' skin said otherwise -so did its' tail that resembled that of a Jailsra from Sanghelios that matched what Humans called "Felines" And at the edge of the tail was what looked like an energy blade tied to the tail, giving it an extra melee weapon.

The creatures had cloth that covered their entire bodies with belts, armor straps, and weapon sheaths covering their torso and legs and arms. They mostly all looked the same with some of the others having their metal like armor in different positions.

"Hang on," The Monarch told us "I'm questioning the Monitor now."

I stood very still. The creature did not return the action, and instead pushed past me where it approached the body of Peter.

"Back the fuck off." Dean warned the creature, raising his weapon at the creature. The creature simply raised its' hand to Dean, telling him to halt, before kneeling over the body Peter.

"Relax, Human," I told him, keeping my eyes of the creature as it touched the wound on Peter's head from where he was shot "There is nothing it could possibly do to your dead comrade that should warrant killing it over."

Dean let out a sigh and lowered his weapon as the creature rose, showing us its' blood covered hands.

"Yes, very pretty." Dominic said in an annoyed tone.

"Its' trying to tell us something." Anve observed.

"What?" Lex questioned "Blood?"

"No," I replied, knowing what it meant, not daring to resist the smile my mandibles were forming "the color... red..."


	26. Echoes of Past Ghosts

_He saw me as his twin sister. But I never minded that._

_While all the other SPARTANs thought me as a comrade, the most isolated of them thought me as his sister._

_He opened up to me, even cried in front of me once.  
>While I loved all my SPARTAN siblings as a family born out of combat training, I loved him because he needed love.<em>

_He was so lonely. And he hated Halsey, the other SPARTANs, and Mendez. But never did he hate me; I reminded him too much of his life that he lost._

_And I always acted like a true sister to him._

_There was often times that I reminded him that I wasn't her. But he never responded to my reminder; not wanting to believe it.  
>He knew I wasn't her, but he didn't want to believe it.<em>

_But he quickly forgot about me, and became 098; became a machine.  
>I became nothing more than another SPARTAN soldier to him, and that broke me.<br>All that time he opened up to me when he wouldn't do so with anyone else, all that time he said how he wanted to go back to Harvest and live a happy, peaceful life... it was all gone; replaced with a desire to fight until he died._

_While all of us were machines in Human form by the time training ended, only he was a true machine.  
>While we mourned for out lost comrades, spoke like Humans, and had a certain amount of Human emotions, he had none.<em>

_While trying to spite Halsey, he ultimately became what he didn't want to become -a machine._

_When our siblings began dying while fighting the Covenant, he didn't show his emotions. Though he still opened up to me at times, but he never showed any emotions other than disappointment at any failure he had committed._

_I often wondered how he would react if he heard that I had died in combat.  
>Would he be sad? Distressed? Fall into depression? Rage? Or would he be happy that such a person that reminded him of his lost life was gone? No, he didn't remember that life.<em>

_He wasn't Red anymore. He was 098._

_098 was a personality that blocked another. It was born out of his spite; his hatred. Red wasn't there anymore._

_But what would happen if the day came where 098 was broken, and Red shined back into the world?_

_098 was inflicted with the indoctrination of the SPARTAN II Program -not Red. So if Red came back... he would have a clear mind, remember his family, and hate Halsey._

_If Red came back... Humanity was doomed..._

_He would expose ONI's secrets, and rebellions would happen over anger and outcry at ONI's disgusting acts. The UNSC would fall under the might of the people's rage, and the UEG would fall. And without Humanity's Governments to fight the Covenant -which the rebellions would not halt for- Humanity would fall._

_But would Red care about the consequences of his actions?_

_A person that has lost everything doesn't care about anything other than his own satisfaction..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1306 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Unknown Location, Installation 06.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>I felt tired.<p>

And not just _normal tired _but tired as if I wanted to lie down and die. Maybe I was. Maybe I was dead. Being dead was unacceptable. And so, I tried my best to open my eyes, to wake myself up from whatever type of sleep I was in. But I couldn't, I couldn't open my eyes, I couldn't move.

I heard a voice; albeit a voice that was too distant for me to understand. But it was real. Someone _alive _was calling to me. Was I in danger? Had I been kidnapped by the Covenant, and they were trying to wake me up to interrogate me? Was I still in the Gravemind's flesh?

I exempted the theory of being with the Gravemind due to... I couldn't remember. But I wasn't with him; the pain from its' tentacle connected into the back of my head was not there. But his presence was felt.

_(I am still among your twisted mind)_ My eyes slung open upon hearing the Gravemind's voice. But I couldn't see properly; everything was blurry. But the figure standing over me was Human -that much was sure to me.

"He's awake!" I heard the person standing over me shout. The voice sounded similar... Harvad _(One of the members of your "Fireteam"? He almost died earlier)_

I tried to say his name, but no words would exit my mouth. I felt a hand touch my shoulder "Hang on, sir; don't try to speak or move." Harvad told me, patting my shoulder in a reassuring way.

I so wanted to speak; to ask him what happened, where I was, to get away from me in-case the Gravemind tried to take control of me. But I didn't know what had happened to me. For all I knew, I could be paralyzed, and talking or moving could damage me physically and mentally _(You are not paralyzed. I simply am keeping you in this state to make them worry)_

Someone appeared over me; a female. "Hang on, sir," The female told me "just gonna check you over." I didn't recognize her voice, but it was likely that she was a Hospital Corpsman.

"Awake, are you?" I heard White ask me, but couldn't see him "You'll be pissed to know that while you were sleeping we were out kicking ass."

"We were?" Harvad questioned White.

"Thanks for ruining it, Corporal." White groaned in annoyance.

My eyesight began clearing, and I saw Harvad, the Corpsman, and something else standing over me _(One of your saviors)_

I let out a grunt of shock as I bounced back in the apparent bed I was in to sit up. I was inside some type of large tent with primitive looking furniture and pots lying around. The _thing _standing before me was as tall as an Elite, but looked so much more different.

"It's okay; they're friendly," Harvad reassured me "Hell, you'd be dead without them." _(They know little)_

"Correction, Corporal; we think they saved him," White corrected Harvad "But until the Monarch and the Monitor get here, we don't now what these creatures are, or their intentions."

The Corpsman began checking my head for injury. That was when I realized that I wasn't wearing the Forerunner armor anymore; likely having been removed when I was captured by the Flood _(You suspicion is correct)_ I was still wearing my MJOLNIR underskin that the Forerunner armor formed around, and that provided some protection from the elements.

The Corpsman pulled out her Data-pad, and began pressing buttons that would likely make it connect up to my neural interface that would let her see my vitals. By the look of the Data-pad, it was modified by Lighter which would explain why she was _even_ trying to connect up to my neural interface.

"The Ultra not having any luck with communicating with them?" Harvad asked White with me snapping my head up upon hearing that the Ultra may possibly be here _(You want vengeance? I can already tell you that it is out there -my Forefathers allows me to know this)_

"He's out there chatting with them," White informed Harvad, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the tent flaps "But he's not getting much; they seem to be able to commune with the Ultra with hand sighs and using sticks and that. Though the Ultra still- Sierra? What're you doing?" I leaped out of the apparent bed I was in, and rushed over to the flaps of the tent with the Corpsman, Harvad, and White trying to stop me both physically and verbally. But a SPARTAN couldn't be stopped; especially one that's out for blood -like me.

I pushed White -who was trying to hold me back- off of me and pushed the tent flaps open to have the blinding light of the sun shine in my eyes. I put my hand up to block the rays, and as soon as the shining died down, I saw the Ultra. It was standing by a group of five of the creatures, communicating with them. Its' Diverted comrades were also with it. But Suras wasn't there, but I spotted it nearby, communicating with a group of Marines off to the side where two Pelicans had landed, and were dropping off Marines and Corpsman.

I immediately -but calmly- walked towards it, anger rising in me. Apparently these creatures were tribal in nature; they had two dozen tents set up around the cliff side we were on with fire-pits, pots, etc scattered everywhere. It reminded me of the ancient American Indian tribes that inhabited America on Earth before the English settled it. Though these creatures seemed much more advanced; using a nearby Forerunner bunker as -from what I could tell from where I was- a command center for possibly the elders or tribal chieftain. The creatures also had spears that had holographic tips; utilizing Forerunner tech for weaponry requires skill beyond comprehension -as least that's what I heard from the Monarch when I was still 098.

I didn't see any female or child creatures. But they were likely hiding in their tents due to the presence of aliens _(Correct again)_

The voices of White, Harvad, and the Corpsman were sounding off behind me as they tried to call me back. I ignore them, and continued towards the Ultra who raised its' head in the air before turning itself to face me; I could see the anger in its' alien eyes even though it was wearing a helmet _(It knows)_

Two Marines came up behind me "Sir, you need to return to the tent to get yourself checked up." One of the Marines behind me told me. I ignored him, and continued to approached the Ultra who was now calmly walking towards me.

"Pathetic," The Ultra hissed "I sense your anger Demon; you could not keep your word; is there not a single one of your race that has honor? _You are all just pathetic worms_." I yelled in raged as both me and the Ultra broke out into a charge towards each other in unison _(That is right; kill it)_

I slammed into the Ultra, driving my fist into its' armored gut. Without my armor, my fist just painfully bounced off of the energy shields. The Ultra chuckled at my failure, grabbed me by the neck, and flung me back a few feel where I landed in a combat roll and spun around. The Ultra shook its' head in anger, and deactivated its' energy shields to even up the duel.

"Sierra, stop!" A Marine grabbed me to stop me but I pushed him off before charging the Ultra again with the Ultra charging me at the same time.

The other Elite members of the Diverted and the Jackal did nothing to intervene, and just stood there with the creatures, staring at me as I landed a punch into the Ultra's armored stomach to have my fist painfully bounce off the armor, leaving it likely broken. The Grunts, however, broke into a cowardly panic, and rushed over to where Suras was.

I grabbed my hand as I back-stepped away from the Ultra, dodging a punch it almost landed on me.

"_STAND THE FUCK DOWN!_" A Marine shouted from behind me with me turning to the Marine and spotting the raised assault rifle in his hands. No one was going to interrupted my rage, so I grabbed the assault rifle out of the Marine's hands, turned around to face the Ultra, its' Diverted, and the creatures, and tossed it towards Anve where it grabbed the rifle as it was in the air, nodding at me; not wanting anyone to interrupt the Ultra's rage either. I still didn't respect the damned alien over its'action -the Elites were a pathetic blight that fell for a pathetic religion that led to Humanity's near destruction.

_(Your kin were similar once) _I roared in rage at the Gravemind's voice, and charged the Ultra again. The Ultra let out a hiss as it grabbed my arms that I was about to attack it with, and held them out-of-the-way so it could bring its' armored hoof up into my chest, kicking me back a few feet with pain flooding my chest _(You are weak without your combat skin. Pathetic)_

"Sierra! Stop this, _now_!" White ordered me as he and Harvard grabbed me in attempt to hold me back. I attempted to push them off me, keeping my eyes trained on the Ultra who was likely smiling at me, but several more Marines came up behind me and assisted in holding me back. Unfortunately my strength was not what it used to be do to my torture by the Gravemind, so I couldn't break free _(A jest on me? Amusing)_

"You _are_ weak," The Ultra jeered "Every single pathetic Human here has lost someone because of the Covenant I _used_ to serve. Yet, they have willingly worked alongside me for the greater good. And out of all of those I believed would betray me, you were the _least_- I did not _even_ considered you to betray me. You are _selfish_, _weak_, _pathetic_," I roared in rage as I tried my best to break through the Marines that were holding me, wanting desperately to kill this bastard "You think you are special? _You are not_."

"_SHUT UP!_" I yelled, adrenaline rushing through me. My eyesight was better, but I still hadn't regained my strength, so I could not fight it properly. But I didn't want to hold it off any longer; 098 may had been able to. But he was stronger in some aspects to what I was strong at. But ultimately, I was the strongest _(Are you really?)_

"I will not keep my mandibles closed to prevent you hearing the truth," The Ultra replied, snapping its' hidden mandibles in anger "You are weak."

"Enough!" White snapped at the Ultra.

"I cannot stop even if I wanted to," The Ultra told White, entering a pace as I was dragged further and further away from it "I cannot allow the Demon to continue with this rage for there is the chance it may attempt to kill me again; kill me without honor, like its' pathetic comrade tried to do, but failed. If it had honor, _she _may be alive."

I roared in rage, and put all my strength in, pulling forward. I did manage to get a bit closer, but not close enough "Stop trying to provoke him!" White ordered the Ultra.

"I am not attempting to provoke the Demon," The Ultra replied "I am but only stating a fact: Demons -the best Humanity has to offer- are honor lacking. This fact reflects greatly on Humanity as a whole; you are not worthy to be the Reclaimers. And I wish I never found out the truth. If I never did, I would still be killing your pathetic race as it should be, instead of helping you save your pathetic race."

"Falsely kill us!" White reminded the Ultra.

"Falsely killing you matters little; you all deserve to die. I need no blinding religion to tell me that."

"A 'Blinding religion'?!" I yelled "An understatement; it's far more than 'blinding'; it turned your fucking race into _stupid fools_. _Stupid fools_ that _killed_ my comrades; _killed_ my family!"

The Ultra hissed in reply "And your pathetic race killed hundred of those who I called comrade. And while they died against your race's pathetic attempt at defending yourselves, it does not justify it when your race clearly deserves to die."

I was about to shout something in reply when the Ultra quickly rushed over to me where it grabbed my neck, tightening its' gloved hand around my neck as the Marines and Diverted raised weapons at each other "And do not _dare _speak about blinding religion to us," The Ultra tightened its' grip, and didn't stop tightening it even when White came up to its' side and raised a pistol to the Ultra's head -the Ultra didn't even pay attention to White, and continued to look at me through its' helmets' glowing blue eyes "Do you seriously believe I have done nothing in the time I have waited around in your primitive ship?!"

The Ultra released its' grip on my throat, and stepped back with me sucking in the air "I know that your pathetic race has been just as blinded by religion as we have; millions have died over your races' pathetic religion. And though your race has adapted to put aside your pathetic religion from your politics, it has still left its' mark. Do not presume to judge us by our blindness from our religion; we have been blinded by loyalty -not religion. We trusted the San 'Shyuum, and they will betray us. So get you damned facts straight: _IT WAS NOT THE RELIGION, BUT OUR DAMNED LEADERS!_ The Covenant was born out of our surrender to the San 'Shyuum; we had no choice but to adopt their perspective. And over time, we grew to rely on the on the San 'Shyuum, and their pathetic, blinding religion grew to blind us. We were once wise, but they bought us down."

The Ultra fell to its' knees "They... _bought us down_... We are paying for our sins against your pathetic race; must you inflict more? Yes, you must. Your race is greedy, selfish, and pathetic; you want to inflict as much pain as required out of pure vengeance -a blinding emotion. Ironic, is it not? That we are blinded by our leaders and religion, but you are blinded by emotions. Which one of us are worst?"

I wanted to discontinue struggling to listen to what the Ultra wanted to say, but the Gravemind wouldn't allow me to stop _(You want to kill it, do you not?) _I wanted to _(Then why do you want to cease?) _I liked watching it grovel. And just like that, the Gravemind allowed me to stop.

"Perhaps the Sangheili are not perfect. But we learn from our mistakes, and acknowledge that we made some," The Ultra raised its' head to face me "You do not deserve the honor of living; your race does not deserve the honor. I have always considered it out of my league to judge another race. But your race so deserves to be judged. And I will not cease to judge until your race becomes intelligent enough to cease your own judging."

The Ultra pushed up on its' knee to stand up, its' hidden eyes remaining directed on me "I find satisfaction in knowing that I have caused you pain; I find pleasure. You deserve pain for you are weak."

"_NO!_" I yelled "I'm stronger now that 098's gone; I'm stronger!"

"No, you remain weak as long as you desire me dead over what I did in the past under the orders of the fake Covenant. 'Orders' You do what you are ordered to, and I did the same -whether I liked it or not. But I liked fighting and killing Humans and Demons; I wanted to be known as a Demon slayer. And I was. So I cannot use the excuse that I did what I was ordered to do. But know that I understand that you hate me, and I care not if you hate me. And you can hate me as much as you want. _BUT _never let it interfere with your mission and your objective. If I were to die, your race and my race die. Are you so weak as to put your own vengeance satisfaction before your own race?"

_(It has a point. Even if you desire to end its' miserable life, I cannot allow it, I cannot allow for anything to jeopardize my plan.) _I wanted to kill it. There was no point in letting it grovel as its' past sins had little effect on its' conscious. It didn't regret what it did to my race. And since it was living without regret, I had no reason not to kill it. But it was right: I couldn't risk Humanity like I was doing so _(A wise decision; kill it when the time is right)_

"I'm going to kill you," I warned the Ultra "Not today, not tomorrow. But I will kill you."

The Ultra let out a chuckle "Not if I kill you first."

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1315 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard UNSC ****_Kryptonite _****Dropship 77-Troop Carrier: Charlie 4-1, On-Route To Newly Established Priority Sector Alpha, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>Sierra-098 was alive... this was either really good... or really bad.<p>

The good was that he could assist us with what Fireteam Night were referring as a mutiny -which was true to some extent. The bad was that he may of tried to hinder us. I wouldn't have originally had this troublesome thought were it not for the report we received not long ago stating that Sierra-098 forced his way out of his "Bed" and attacked Thel 'Lodam due to what White believed was to be over personal revenge.

Whatever the "Gravemind" did to him broke something in him for possibly the worse. Though at least Captain Jsarez was starting to leave her "State of pain" so we may had been able to convince her to go against exposing ONI instead of having to kill her. But which side would Sierra-098 pick if a fight did break out? His duty, or his family? How could ONI fuck up so bad as to let a family member of a SPARTAN II join the Navy?

"Sir, the Monitor and Monarch are requesting that I lower the birds' ramps to let them in the bay," Cross informed me over the COM "Requesting permission to oblige."

"Permission granted." I replied over the COM via my earpiece with the ramps lowering in reply.

"Finally, I have some questions to ask them." Lynda grumbled. She and I both had questions -like how the Monitor didn't mention these creatures earlier, how they managed to rescue Sierra-098, what Sierra-098's status was, was he okay to bring aboard the ship, etc.

I heard the two machine like voices of the floating robots as they entered the Pelican's bay, arguing.

"-Do not think how you perceive them to think." The Monarch said to the Monitor.

"The Reclaimers complain too much about inconvenience." The Monitor replied, as if we were not here.

"Right here." I reminded the two floating orbs who both turned from looking at each other to look at me.

"I am aware of that, Reclaimer." The Monitor replied in its' cheery, high pitched voice.

"Oi, floaty!" Lynda broke in, using her "Piss the fuck off" tone "What the fuck are those things?! And why are we only hearing 'bout them _now_?!"

"Yeah," A Marine member of Lynda's Fireteam agreed "Would've been nice to know if there was something out there that could had waltzed into the Containment Zone and kick the Flood's ass before sending in out most vital asset."

"I was unaware that this species -designated: 'Unknown Species'- was effective against the Flood -if they are at all." The Monitor replied. What I found odd was what it called these creatures. "Unknown Species"... I was led to believe that the Forerunners named every living thing in the Universe before they died off.

"'Unknown Species?'" I questioned the Monitor in a confused tone.

"Yes, my function forbids me from naming newly discovered species." The Monitor explained.

That made no sense. If what it was saying was true, then these creatures must had arrived on this Installation after the Forerunners died off. But if the combat recordings from the helmets of Fireteam Wreckage were right, then these creatures were tribal like in their evolution. So they couldn't have arrived on this Halo via a ship, and I doubted that they evolved from a creature like state of this magnitude in the course of 100 thousand years or so "Do you know what these creatures are? What they evolved from?"

"Negative, Reclaimer. After analyzing the DNA of one of the Unknown Species -through their consent- I have determined that this species have in no way evolved from an earlier species. And their DNA shows no record that they evolved from any other species on any other world in the recorded Galaxy."

That meant that this creature must had evolved from a species _outside _of out Universe, or they appeared out of nowhere.

"So what? These creatures just... _showed up_?" I questioned the Monitor in a confused tone mixed with irritation.

"That is the only logical explanation, Reclaimer. I have not found any records on how they showed up on this Installation or when."

Lynda quickly broke in "Who cares where they came from! I want to know why you didn't know that they could kick Flood ass!"

"Contact with this species has been minimal. They have only supplied me with one body to analyze, and have refused to communicate with me other than at vital moments, and the only time I really spent time around their people was when I was collecting their language data with the assistance of one of their people. Their culture, religion, combat style and so much more remains a mystery to me. And as per my protocol and function, I am not allowed to purse understanding of this species with force or passive communication. I am unaware if this species truly is effective against the Flood or not. But they seem to be willing to commune with us now. This is why I did not speak of them earlier, Reclaimer; it was irrelevant. That, and I could not risk your Captain attempting to save this species from their certain elimination from this Installations destruction, and disrupt my plans."

"Courtney ain't a person to put anything before Humanity." Lynda snapped back.

"Relax, Keyes," I waved for her to calm down "The Forerunners were great when it came to mental tech. But they couldn't build floating robots that could read minds."

Lynda rolled her eyes in annoyance. She hated it when someone outmatched her intelligence, it made her think that she was not as smart as she was. This lack of confidence was annoying in so many ways.

"Ma'am," Wade suddenly said "I have spent a large amount of time reviewing the tapes from Wreckage's cams, and have spotted something odd about the creatures."

Both me and Lynda turned around to face Wade who was sitting on the seat closest to the entrance to the cockpit. Wade wasn't one to speak out unless it was something we hadn't bought up, and didn't seem like we _were _going to bring up. So when he spoke out of nowhere, we all knew to shut up and listen.

I nodded for him to continue which he did "These creatures are reptilian in likeness. But they have mammal aspects as well; feline like tail, skin, so on. They also had a feather which matches-"

"They are hybrids," The Monarch interrupted "I reviewed the report that this Installation's Monitor conducted on this species anatomy and have concluded that this species have bird, fish, mammal, and reptile external and interior structure. for example for the fish like structure: behind the flap of skin that is on their head is their gills, nostrils, and ears all mixed together in a single system which is concealed to the prying eye.

Hybrids? So these creatures where made out of genetic manipulation? Or a bird fucked a fish and their kid -who was a bird-fish- fucked a mammal whose kid turned out to be a mammal-fish-bird Hybrid that managed to fit its' deformed as hell dick into a reptile...? _Who made these things?_

* * *

><p>After another three minutes of discussing these creatures -now agreed upon to be called by the unofficial name "Hybrids"- we finally landed near the creatures' village where Sierra-098 waited for us.<p>

The Monitor stated that these creatures only had this single village in the Installation, and their numbers ranged over no more than a hundred. But that wasn't what my main train of thought was on as I looked at the battered Sierra-098 who couldn't take his eyes of 'Lodam who was standing behind me, hissing quietly through his gritted mandibles hidden under his helmet.

"If I recall correctly," I began, irritation in my voice "we made a mutual agreement with the Diverted that stated we were not to try and kill each other..."

"_Blarg!_" Was what the SPARTAN said in reply "_Wort, wort wort!_"

"Da fuck?" White muttered.

"Racist." 'Lodam growled in a low tone. I simply rolled my eyes; the Gravemind turned one of Humanity's greatest assets into a mental defective.

"Oh, this is quite bad." The Monitor remarked.

"Scanning now." The Monarch added with a ray of orange light shining towards Sierra-098 who didn't even flinch.

"'Lodam, did you hit him over the head while I wasn't looking?" White questioned 'Lodam.

"No." 'Lodam calmly replied.

Sierra-098 began chuckling "forgive me; I feel sick after jacking off to the thought of eating White's dead sister."

"_WHAT THE FUCK?!_" White exclaimed, charging towards Sierra-098 only to be stopped by his Fireteam members.

"Just as I theorized," The Monarch remarked "This Reclaimer has MF-7631."

"English, please." Lynda groaned.

"Mental Functioning-7631; there is no further explanation over the title." The Monarch replied.

"I thought the 'MF' meant 'Mind Fuck'." One of Lynda's men chuckled.

"What does this... _'condition' _mean?" I questioned the Monarch.

"It is a rare condition when a Flood Gravemind -who are all connected- plants a spore in the mind of a host in an infiltration effort. The host contains all of their memories and personality, but the Gravemind's spore controls what the host says or doesn't say -for example: if no one other than the host knows that they are infected, the host cannot warn them. The Gravemind's connection to the mind is... complicated to elaborate on further. But if the Gravemind wished to take control of what the host says or does, it can do so." So Sierra-098 wasn't mentally fucked? That was good to hear.

The Monarch continued "But we have thankfully established a simple surgical procedure that implants a neural chip into the mind of a captured host which puts considerable constraint on the Gravemind's spore which will require it to go to incredible lengths to take control of the host physically, mentally, and verbally."

"So he won't sprout random shit anymore?" Lynda questioned the Monarch.

"Correct," The Monarch confirmed before turning to face the smiling Sierra-098 "Though capturing the infected Reclaimer and performing the surgery -which we have the tools to do- will be difficult."

"This is correct, creation of my long gone foe." Sierra-098 calmly said.

"Can't we just remove and kill the spore?" I questioned the Monarch.

"It is impossible to do so without killing the infected Reclaimer. We can only currently dull the Gravemind's spore; put constraints on it. But we can't destroy it."

"The all great Forerunners are not so great." Sierra-098 -or more of the Gravemind- chuckled.

"Righto," Lynda sighed "I suppose you ain't gonna come nicely, huh?"

"Grow a cock, and I might do so." The Gravemind smirked.

"Shouldn't be hard," A Marine remarked "She's already got balls."

"You won't if you don't shut the fuck up!" Lynda snapped at the Marine.

Out of nowhere, the controlled SPARTAN grabbed the arm of the Marine next to him, snapped his arm to have the Marine let out a cry of pain, and yanked the MA37 assault rifle out of the Marines hands before snapping around to aim at us.

The Hybrids all leaped back, staring at Sierra-098 as the Sentinels and a few Marines moved in, weapons aimed at him "Indulge me, please." Sierra-098 said.

Lynda began to slowly approach Sierra-098 "Don't have to; the creature behind you is gonna do it for us." Sierra-098 spun around to see nothing, but didn't spin back around in time to stop Lynda from charging up to him and smashing her fist into the back of his head repeatedly until he went limp.

"Sorry, Courtney." Lynda sighed, rolling off of Sierra-098's limp body before getting up and rushing over to the wounded Marine whose arm looked dislocated.

"Always the fast actor." A Marine chuckled -likely the same one who kept joking around.

"That was quite simple," The Monitor observed "I suspected this may had turned violent."

"Not under my watch," Lynda replied, inspecting the Marines arm before turning to face two Marines "You two, load him into the Pelican, and keep a gun to his head; if he moves, knock him out again. But only kill him as a last resort."

The Marines both said "Yes, ma'am." before rushing over to the unconscious Sierra-098.

So that was the plan? Get Sierra-098 under the table and implant a chip that the Monitor or Monarch seem to have for some reason and in return, have a functioning SPARTAN that will only kill us when her really had to. Sounded simple. Though nothing ever was. And although we had Sierra-098 back, there may had been a chance that he would choose his loyalty to his sister over ONI -which was highly likely if the Gravemind _really _fucked his mind up. The mutiny may had just gotten a lot harder.

Next step was to continue recruiting grudged soldiers who would desire luxuries and duty over loyalty. Thankfully there were plenty of those type of people on the _Kryptonite_. The next step was to have sit-down with the Captain when she got better, and see if she is willing to put her hatred of ONI aside for Humanity's sake. If not, then millions would die.

I kept telling myself that killing a few good people to save the asses of an entire race was justified. I respected Captain Jsarez and her crew; I'd even be pissed at ONI as well, and would want to bring them down. But revenge is a blinding emotion that can apparently affect SPARTANs now. I think I'd have the same mindset if I was her. But deep down, I'd want someone to stop me.

It was disturbing to know who I worked for was a _real _evil organization like in those stupid Science Fiction movies. When I first found out about the history of the SPARTAN II Program, I felt physically and mentally sick. My CO picked up on this, and sternly reminded me that ONI made the right call, and that Humanity would've been damned by the Covenant without them.

But ONI's personal scapegoat wasn't going to work on me. If the SPARTANs were made to combat the Covenant, then I might have been more at ease with it. But to steal a child's freedom to combat _Humans _that would've been defeated anyway was stupid. We would've defeated the Insurrection eventually -wouldn't have we? But the SPARTANs were created to ease it.

What does it say when a secret organization is willing to steal a child's freedom just to make something easier?

The more I dwelt on ONI's evil, the more I could add to the list of crimes that Humanity would be calling for blood over. As much as I wanted to see ONI answer for their crimes, I couldn't allow them to come at risk. But I planned on resigning from ONI when we got back, and do something worthy with my life -something to be remembered for, something good. But if the time arrived when ONI was no longer needed, I would speak out; not out of disgust, but vengeance over having to kill many people I called friends for them.

At least 'Lodam wasn't on good terms with Sierra-098, so if I had to kill the SPARTAN, it shouldn't have been a problem. 'Lodam might actually assist me if I had to kill Sierra-098 due to his hatred for him. This may prove useful. Though I still had no idea on how the Monitor or Monarch would react. Well, the Monitor wouldn't be a problem since I planned to act when we were in Slipspace on-route to a random vector. But the Monarch I might have been able to sway over by saying that this is what the Human Government wanted, and that these Humans were planning on doing something that risked Humanity. Hopefully the Monarch would be convinced. If not... that bridge was still a while away., and hopefully would not need to be crossed.

Hopefully...


	27. Not Quite Home Yet

_A Little Girl... An Abomination... A Vengeful Widow... A Direction... A Missing Comrade... A Struggling Sire... A Demon..._

_I always thought that the war against the Covenant was my greatest journey..._

_Then I stumbled upon Halo..._

_That is when the beginning of my true journey began..._

_Was it a blessing or a curse that I found my sister?..._

_I would never know..._

_I had survived the horrors of Halo when so many did not..._

_I was betrayed by those I reluctantly call comrades..._

_I was betrayed by the one we all relied on..._

_But me, and my sister, and her crew were saved..._

_Though... I was not saved..._

_My mind is clouded by the spore of those who came before..._

_My mind is nothing but a vessel for destruction..._

_My mind is nothing but a vessel for the future..._

_I stood on the Prowler's observation deck, watching as Earth got closer and closer..._

_My Great Journey had only just began..._

_A Little Girl... An Abomination... A Vengeful Widow... A Missing Comrade... A Struggling Sire... A Demon..._

* * *

><p><span><strong>September 11, 2555 [1018 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**Aboard Unknown**_** Sahara**_**_-_****Class Heavy Prowler, On-Route To Unknown ONI Orbital Facility, Orbiting Earth.**

**Red-098...**

* * *

><p>"Red, you okay?" I turned to face Nai who was standing next to me, watching Earth. I didn't hear her approach, and she no doubt kept her presence to herself to watch me, and determine if I was alright or not. I learned that this was a thing she did over the years I had to recoil with her.<p>

I turned my gaze back to Earth. "Just thinking," I reassured her "Just..." I lowered my gaze to my feet.

Nai obviously knew something was wrong, and she apparently knew what that something was according to her next words: "We did all we possibly could." She was correct -to some extent.

"We could had done more if not for the Monarch... Why did they did they do what they do what they did? It doesn't make any sense." I sighed, thinking about 'Lodam.

She patted my shoulder in a reassuring matter "I know. But hey! It looks like Karma got them."

I turned to face her. "How so?"

"The crew says that the Sangheili are apparently still divided in civil war and conflict over their damned religion, and the _Isigrass _hasn't reappeared. So it's likely that 'Lodam and his group of assholes are lost in space."

The Gravemind likely knew the truth, but wasn't telling me, so what Nai told me reassured me of the likely truth. That truth wasn't satisfying, but it'd have to do.

I let out a sigh at the thought. What 'Lodam did was incredibly ironic.

"I wonder if our parents survived the Covenant invasion." Nai mused. That was a question I wanted answer as well, but the Gravemind refused to let me know what happened to distress me further. _(You aspire to grasp my inclinations in a grand matter? I intend to disenchant)_

"What was it like? Living on Earth?" I asked her, my gaze still on the planet.

"The scenery was... nice... but the planet was too overpopulated."

"Not that great?"

"It was safe from the Covenant onslaught, so it was the number one choice for us. We almost chose Reach..."

_(Tell 'em to make it count)_ I shook my head at the scene that was a clear as daylight. It wasn't something I wanted to see, but the Gravemind enjoyed bringing it up on an almost hourly basis.

"A part of me always wished we never left Harvest... but I quickly dismiss that part of me as being insane," Nai sighed in relief "As much as I hated that clone, its death saved me, mum and dad... A small part of me wish we never moved to Arcadia. I met a lot of people on that planet that I fell in love with. But the torment Christina inflicted onto me... it's just a small part." Nai let out a sigh as she concluded.

"I heard she escaped Arcadia and went on to die peacefully."

Nai let out a chuckle "She died insane, leaving a message to her family full of bullshit. She seemed to think that she won the lotto and was a millionaire," Nai began chuckling "She also had the false memory that she was a _fucking prostitute_ as well, and that she lost her hand after breaking the dick of a mob boss."

I turned to face to my chuckling sister, narrowing my eyes in disbelief "Really?"

"Really," She confirmed "She also said that she hired assassins to kill her family if they didn't bury her in a nonexistent select crypt. Though she didn't hire assassins; her family made sure about that before publishing this online and making an entire news story about it."

"The news took an interest in it?"

"Yeah, they found it almost amusing. Though, the family sadly didn't. One thing that was true in her letter -that I have no idea how she wrote- was that she did indeed leave her kids no money in her testament, and that all her belongings was going to go to her favorite stud by the name of 'Stud Muffin' who didn't even exist. And because he didn't exist, the house, her money, all of it went to banks and the Government. Sadly, though, her entire family lived with her, and were kicked out onto the street."

Nai turned to face me, a smile appearing on her face. "But dad managed to buy a few businesses on Earth, and had a healthy revenue. So I asked him to please buy a house for the family; convincing him that too many people have suffered over Christina's bullshit."

"And he agreed?"

"I didn't even need to convince him; he was right on it. I just hope they're all okay." Nai raised her eyebrows as if asking me 'well?' The Gravemind still wouldn't let me tell them, so I redirected my gaze back to Earth, acting like I didn't pick up on her silent question. Nai caught onto this, and didn't press it further -that was if she _even was _asking me a silent question.

I set the thought aside, and turned my head around from gazing at Earth to look at Nai after I heard her let out an annoyed grunt. "Are you okay?"

She turned to face me. "Here we are: chatting each other up," There was sadness in her voice. "It almost seemed like we're having a normal conversation. But we're only waiting the time away until our inevitable separation arrives," Where was she going with this? "Sorry," She lowered her gaze to the ground. "I just wish things would _actually _end up going back to normal."

"The correct response would be for me to tell you that things _will _go back to normal," I replied. "But I'd be lying," She raised her gaze to look at me again. "It's not that there isn't a chance... but I'm still a SPARTAN, and I can't live a normal life even if I wanted to."

"Yes you _can_," Nai sternly replied. "You've done enough for Humanity; the war is over. You have every right to retire."

"If only it'd be that simple, right?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I won't let ONI off the hook that easily."

"But what if going after them ruins any chance we have to live a normal life?"

She let out a sigh. "Ultimately, you should make the decision. Do you want to get payback? Or do you want to settle down?"

I smiled. "Which one involves combat?"

She smiled in returned. I didn't know what was going to happen after this. But I did know that blood -Human blood- was going to be spilled. And while I disliked the idea of spilling Human blood, anyone who is stupid enough to go up against a pissed off, armored SPARTAN II kinda deserves whatever fate awaits them. At least I hope I'd be armored. My armor was currently on the armory in the Prowler. So getting it back may had been troublesome.

"First, though, we find out what happened to our family. And if the Gravemind won't tell us, I'll find out my fucking self."

"Sorry." I apologized.

"It's not your fault you have that _thing _fucking around in your head. It's my fault for sending you in there with little backup."

I quickly placed my hands on her shoulder before giving her a reassuring shake. "You did what was required of you, like a proper soldier does. And no one knew that there was a Gravemind that had integrated itself with the most advance artifact in the Universe looming in the Library. No one. It's no one's fault."

_(You should cease your colloquy. The Human is imminent in his advent to apprise you that you are nigh on your journey's conclusion)_ I broke my sister off before she could reply. "West's on his way or is already here." And just like that,the observation deck hissed open with both me and Nai turning to the sound to see West walk in.

I saluted. "Sir."

"At ease," West gestured before continuing "Sorry to disturb you, but we need everyone to assemble at the airlock; we're nearly there." I nodded in reply before following Nai out of the observation deck.

After that we assembled in the crowded area around the airlock where the door eventually hissed open to have yet more SPARTAN IVs charge in and secure us, pushing us around and growling at us like we were a bunch of criminals. Nai and the surviving members of her crew were taken away to somewhere isolated while I was escorted in a different direction, down a hall.

"Where you are taking me?" I asked the lead SPARTAN IV that was escorting me, he didn't reply. I don't know whether he didn't reply because he was an effective SPARTAN IV, and was following his orders not to speak to me to the book, or if he was an immature ODST in shiny armor who hated SPARTANs over the shit that happened on the _Atlas _30 years ago.

I didn't push it, and remained silent until we arrived at a room where they escorted me to my seat before _'properly securing' _me and leaving to have the ONI interviewer and several guards walk in as they left. I ignored them and had a look around the room as they all positioned themselves.

This was a proper interrogation/interview room.

Similar to the room on the Prowler: there were no windows to see out into the vastness of space, and a single door leading in and out of the room. But unlike the room on the Prowler, there was no kitchen to make coffee, and there were cameras everywhere with automatic turrets aimed at me. ONI also didn't seem to want to take any risks with me, having the SPARTAN IVs shackle me in the strongest metal available before strapping me in a straight jacket. There was also three guards behind me with shock batons at the ready with another two guards armed with M45D Shotguns aimed at my head. The ONI interviewer wasn't so worried, and kept to wearing the supposed intimidating black outfit that ONI enjoyed arming their official off-duty personal; mostly meant to deal with and intimidate the public, and scare prisoners.

I was surprised that I wasn't taken away immediately after arriving where surgery would be performed. _(They comprehend the peril we impose, and are contrary to the scheme that comprises of any redundant perils; they do not intent an en-devour to incarcerate me, and will extinguish me the foremost potential chance they receive) _That was good. Though, I was annoyed that the Gravemind didn't mention this earlier as I was fretting over whether or not ONI would attempt to capture and use the spore. _(I indulge in your cerebral anguish) _Of course it did.

The interviewer cleared his throat. "ONI interview: Incident 071824260, session 8: continue," The ONI interviewer raised his head from his Data-pad to look at me "I think first off I should answer some questions you obviously have."

I nodded for the interviewer to continue, which he did "HIGHCOM has reviewed the recordings of your previous sessions, and have concluded that you are greatly misinformed on ONI's intent when it relates to the Flood. For one: we have no intention on studying the Flood in any way due to previous engagements with them, and we will destroy that spore in your head when we get the chance. _(But not yet)_ Secondly: -West got this mixed up as well- we are fully aware of what the Flood can do to an individuals brain, and I have been tasked to give you as much time as you need to explain your story."

That struck me as odd. I didn't know that ONI would be so tolerant to the Gravemind's annoyingly slow pace. _(I proceeded to recognize this) _I knew that, it didn't need to remind me. Still, the amount the Gravemind did just to make up its' fun for telling the story was ridiculous; ordering my sister and her crew -threatening some- to keep quiet about it, beating around the bush while wasting a lot of time, and more. _(The superior the motion of setting the anguish, the grander its' apex shall be. I considerably revel in observing your derisory ethnic group attempt to decipher a plot when their theories are exceedingly extraneous and false. And I desire to indulge myself for as prolonged as I supplementary can afore the actuality unravels itself)_

The ONI interviewer continued "You claim in the sessions that the spore will allow you to inform us of everything that's happened, but through its' own pace." That was true. Thought I didn't know why the Gravemind would reveal everything if they were going to attempt to remove him after... no answer?

"Affirmative, sir," I nodded "It may take _some _time but I do believe it plans on letting me tell you everything." I was glad that the Gravemind got bored with using my 098 personality, and let me use my normal one. I also didn't need to worry about it bringing on the personality again since everyone knew that it was fake.

I quickly spoke up before the interviewer could continue "Sir, what happens after you know everything?"

The interviewer looked up from his Data-pad, a smile crossing his face. "We'll call it a trade of info; once we know everything that happened during the years you were missing, we will inform you of your future -seem fair?"

_(This one is superior in intellect. A commendable scapegoat to conceal up the valid fact; they do not crave me to get agitated if they verbalize their attempt to extinguish me, and as an effect, have me cease illuminating) _"Sir, it already knows what's gonna happen, and won't refrain from telling you anything no matter my fate." I told the ONI interviewer.

"You can't guarantee that, for all we know, you're lying."

_(This one is estimably superior in intellect) _"You're gonna wait until I tell you everything before putting a non-lethal round in my head, effectively stopping my brain from functioning, but keeping me alive. You'll then perform emergency surgery on me, removing my brain and the round, and the spore before killing the spore. You'll then replace my brain with machinery adapted from Forerunner tech which will override my thinking structure, turning me back into an emotionless machine -just like ONI wants. You'll then send my sister and her crew to a secret prison ship for war criminals both Human and alien where they will be listed as MIA on the charts, and will never be allowed to leave the ship. As for me: I will continue to serve you unwavering for the rest of my life."

The ONI interviewer showed no surprise. But I had it right. "You know there is no way to stop us from putting that round in your head. So why doesn't the Gravemind try to stop us when we least suspect it?"

I smiled, albeit, it was the Gravemind's smile. "Who said that's not what it's planning. Whether or not it is, it has a plan on getting out of this."

The ONI interviewer narrowed his eyes. "Then I guess we'll have to be careful for now on. But I seriously doubt a SPARTAN -genetically altered by a Flood spore or not- could break out of this room," Before I could reply, the ONI interviewer asked me another question. "What strikes me as odd, is how you were able to know this plan. Does this _Precursor artifact _allow the Gravemind to hack into any terminal in the galaxy or something? How does it work."

"Just like you said, sir. But there's also the case that the artifact allows it to see the thoughts of every living thing in existence no matter where they are -don't ask me how, sir."

"These... _Precursors _must be more advance than anything we can comprehend."

_(You cannot comprehend my forefathers aptitudes) _"They make the Forerunners look like animals in comparison when it comes to tech," _(No alteration in the thought process of the this one; it still desires my demise) _"I'm surprised, sir. The Gravemind isn't sensing your change out thought over the idea of having the ability to know everything that was currently happening. I would've thought that you'd at least consider trying to capture the Gravemind's spore for research."

The ONI interviewer shifted in his seat, pressing some buttons on his Data-pad. "We ain't an evil corporation, Sierra-098, we know what the Flood are capable of, and want nothing more to make sure that they are eradicated. Don't get me wrong, this knowledge could save Humanity from our sure-as-hell dangerous future, and evolve our tech by hundreds of years. But the Flood's destruction must always come first. Now, before we begin, I think it's necessary that I explain about some things that have happened over the years; what you haven't already learnt from the Gravemind's supposed connection with this... _Precursor _artifact and the crew of the Prowler."

_(You can advance to inquire into any subject you desire. I will avert you from speaking query's I deem to the contrast of my desire -more than most revolving around your blood) _The Gravemind was giving me a usual amount of freedom. But I wasn't about to complain. "I already know the fate of all of my SPARTAN comrades, sir. _("Wake me... When you need me) Every _SPARTAN."

The ONI interviewer narrowed his eyes. Was it possible that he figured out what I meant? _(It matters to the slightest; it would be an impair to enlighten them of his locality. Especially after our subsequent downfall that he was productive in causing. The anguish and ire I felt when it was concluded...) _I personally felt that anger. The moment the ARK was destroyed, my mind went on fire with the Gravemind's rage.

"What about Halsey, sir?" I questioned the interviewer. _(This is a discard of time; the rapid increase of this pace shall be enacted on) _Memories and images flooded my mind as vivid and clear as seeing what was in front of me, and I knew the fate and explanation of events that have happened in my absent, except the fate of my parents. "Never mind, sir," I quickly waved the interviewer to stop "The Gravemind was kind enough to reveal the answers to all questions I have."

"How convenient." The ONI interviewer remarked before typing what happened down on his Data-pad. I noticed a girly sticker of his Data-pad.

_(This one has a female spawn who endured the war. But she will not endure my wraith over my ostensible downfall) _"How old is your kid? I want to suck her titties."

The ONI interviewer raised his eyes, narrowing them. "I already said we reviewed the recordings, so that ain't gonna work."

_(I have already acknowledged this datum) _"No," The Gravemind -speaking through me- replied "This is really me; I turned into a child molester whilst I was absent."

The ONI interviewer let out a sigh of irritation with a hint of anger and discomfort. "That's not funny, so will you stop it?"

_(Humans lack the tendencies required for my amusement) _The Gravemind made me slam my head down on the table as a 'Parting gift' before releasing its' control on me. The chip worked. But that still didn't stop the Gravemind from taking control of me at least once a day for a few minutes.

"Sorry, sir." I apologized.

"It's fine," The ONI interviewer nodded in reassurance "At least you ain't killing me." He must have meant the Combat Forms. And for all I knew, I would eventually be trying to kill him. _(I aspire to the contrary; I intend for this Human to subsist its' existence as extensively as it can due to its' superior intellect that I find admirable) _Could have I repeated that? _(No)_

_(A Little Girl... An Abomination... A Vengeful Widow... A Direction... A Missing Comrade... A Struggling Sire... A Demon...)_ I started yelling with the interviewer jumping out of his seat and backing away while the guards closed in on me, weapons at the ready, and the auto-turrets directed their aim at me. What was the Gravemind saying? Why did it hurt so much when he said it? What did it mean? Why wouldn't he tell me?

A scene appeared before my eyes. There was an Elite clad in exotic armor standing before a crowd of its' kin. "I relish not in my established footing in addition to processing a modicum repute towards inspiring words of motivation to enhance moral, nor do I covet your reverence. Nevertheless, my declaration is essential whilst Organizer of this clique -the Pariahs of Ethnicity."

The scene faded before the Elite could continue, and another scene appeared. There was a man working in a factory, hefting steel into large industrial machinery. "Hey, how's things at home?" A coworker who appeared out of nowhere asked.

The man turned to face the coworker, but the vivid scene faded away before the worker could respond.

Another one to appear in the previous scenes' stead. There was Prowler floating in space, its' engines off. I knew the Prowler, and hatred rose throughout me. But just as the scene appeared, it faded away for nothing but white to appear behind my eyes.

But it wasn't just white... it was a white world. And in this world was a small figure in the distance, apparently looking at me. The figure faded for a larger figure to appear in the other figure's stead, charging towards me. This figure looked like me, but it was not me in _so_ many ways.

Just as the figure leaped at me, the scene faded away for a scene of Earth's sun setting before the scene faded away.

Replacing the scene was a scene on a distant alien world with a single female Elite staring at the sun, tightening her clawed hands into a fist.

The scenes faded away, and I saw the ONI interviewer in front of me again, looking at me in confusion. "Sorry, sir," I apologized, rubbing my pain stricken head. "That I was odd." I muttered to myself.

The ONI interviewer waved for the guards to stand down before seating himself again. "What was odd?" He asked.

"Something the Gravemind showed me, sir."

"What did he show you?"

I scrunched up my eyes at the pain going through my head. "I'm wondering the exact same thing, sir." _(You will grasp the comprehension to this fathom when the instant is correct. But enough of keeping your sentiments composed. Do you want to be aware of the contemporary fate of your sibling and her comrades?) _I did. But why didn't the Gravemind just tell me? Did it want me to stress further? _(That would be decomposing the amusement I am receiving in the existing measures. But ruminate... is it conceivable that your sibling has met her demise?)_ And just at that moment, rage spun through me.

I slammed my fist down onto the table to have the ONI interviewer leap out of his chair and back away again with the turrets and guards aiming their weapons at me. "WHERE IS MY SISTER?!"

"Being detained in a cell with the rest of her crew. Don't worry, nothing will happen to her." The ONI interviewer reassured me.

"And how do I know that's true? The Gravemind isn't telling me, and I can't currently read your mind. So how do I know? They aren't telling you anything, so you might as well toss them aside as the useless rags they are instead of locking them up."

"No one is useless to ONI," The interviewer reassured me before heading over to the table and placing his Data-pad out on the table so I could see it.

I could see my sister along with Lynda and some others in a cell. "This isn't fabricated in any way. And we have no reason to hide the truth from you even if we did execute your sister."

The interviewer let out a sigh, picked up his Data-pad, and waved the guards down before taking a seat. "Listen, I know that your sister's out for our blood. But trust me, a lot of people are. But we ain't executing them, okay. Rhine had it wrong."

Those words shocked me. Rhine had it wrong? So they... _he_... "FUCK HIM!" I yelled, the ONI interviewer didn't back out of his seat again. "FUCK HIM! FUCK HIM! _FUCK HIM!_"

"I assume nothing good came out of his attempted mutiny?"

I looked up to face the ONI interviewer. "It was a massacre, sir."

"Then let's get underway so I can know the full extent of what he's done. Or do you want to see your sister in person first?"

_(His words regarding your siblings fate are legitimate) _Why would the Gravemind tell me this after all that stress it put me through? Why wouldn't it just let me stress further? I ignored my thoughts and shook my head. "Negative, sir."

"Then shall we begin?"

I had something I wanted to know first. "What's your name, sir?"

"Lieutenant George Kirkland." There was nothing special about the name, nor could I pinpoint the reason I asked his name since it was my own doing, not the Graveminds.

I wanted to get into this. But there was something else bugging me. "Sir, you said that ONI isn't a 'big, evil organization' yet you're still planning on forcefully utilizing me with brainwashing," I didn't give him a chance to answer. "Ah, but I know why. You've let other SPARTAN IIs retire at their request. So why not me? Because the SPARTANs that did retire were on good terms with ONI, or if they did resent what happened during their training, ONI manages to shift the blame on Halsey -your own personal scapegoat. I know, I used to hate her as well. You remember when I first regained my actual personality? How I screamed that I'd kill Halsey over and over again? That was weak of me. She did what she was ordered to do -save some decisions she made herself. But the Augmentations, our kidnapping... it was all ONI -not her. Now, You know better than to release someone who hates ONI with the bottom of his gut back into the world[s]. So what's the best course of action? Lock us up. But no, you won't lock me up when I could still be of use. My sister and her crew -yes. Me, no."

Kirkland didn't waver -as I suspected would happen. "It's not like we enjoy our plans, but you leave us no choice. We can't release you back into the public, and you won't willingly fight for Humanity again. So what are we to do?"

I didn't hid the anger in a voice. "Let me live out the rest of my life in prison with my sister. After half a lifetime apart, let me spend what's left with her; let me protect her in whatever prison you're sending her to, to redeem myself. That's the right solution."

The ONI interviewer let out a sigh. "We'll no doubt be here for a few days, so do I'll take it up with HIGHCOM later. I personally don't see the need to continue to use you in operations, and perhaps HIGHCOM's sensitive side will kick in. But I don't see why it can't happen."

I let a smile appear on my face. Though I couldn't tell if they were telling the truth because the Gravemind didn't tell me what they were thinking. Hopefully he was telling the truth.

I myself always told the truth -even when that truth could hurt me. _(I comprehend you implication. A Merited penance)_

A Memory impossibly vivid appeared afore me. I was on the training field, Mendez in front of me with three more trainers standing behind him -my own trainer included. I didn't know if I hated this memory or loved it. For one it reminded me that I never truly fell for the early age indoctrination. But it also reminded me of my turning point... of when 098 came into the equation.

"I had a lot of friends -even family- living in that city," Mendez stated, pacing around me with one hand on his holstered baton and the other scratching the back of his head. "You ought to be lucky that none of my friends decided to do a Summer Job."

"What if they did? You'd beat me up over vengeance after all that shit you taught us about how vengeance was wrong?"

Mendez's hand shot out of nowhere, smashing me across the face and sending me tumbling to the grassy ground. "You will not speak unless you are asked a question -do you understand, Cadet?"

I calmly used my arms to push myself back up where I spat some blood into Mendez's face. "No."

Mendez hit me again, sending me tumbling to the ground, again. "Do you understand, Cadet? And call me 'sir'."

I calmly got back up again, maintaining my composure. "I'm not a soldier."

Mendez smashed his fist into my face again, sending me sprawling to the ground again, blood seeping out of my nose and mouth. I heard Mendez unshackle his baton from his belt -this was gonna get bad. "Do you understand, Cadet?"

I smirked as I got up, raising my aching head to face him. "I'm too young to understand all this military shit. I don't get why you're hitting me, and what you want me to do."

Mendez smashed his fist into my face again. And yet again, I fell to the grassy ground. "Stop playing around, son. I don't enjoy this."

"Neither do I."

Mendez landed a kick into my gut. "Speak only when asked to."

"I have every right to speak when ever I damn well want to speak."

Another kick landed into my gut. It was so hard that it took my breath away. I spun over, seeping in the air as I coughed blood up. I wondered if Mendez would actually kill me? Would he stop when it got too much? Or would Halsey have to intervene? I hoped that Halsey would intervene so I could spit blood in her face, too.

I finally recovered my breath when Mendez held a hand out for me. "Com'on, son. Just play along so you can retire to the barracks."

I swiped at his fingers, but only managed to grab and break one. Mendez let out a grunt of pain as he pulled his hand back and began holding it to his chest, but not letting pain show on his face. That was wrong of me; I was a little kid, I didn't have the strength to break a grown mans' finger. What the fuck use was it trying to stay normal if I kept using what was taught to me? I shouldn't have broken out and went to the city and kill those people. I may had wanted to spite Halsey, but it contradicted my plan to never use my abilities, and just buy time. I was a damned mess. And it got worse as Mendez landed another kick into my gut.

Strangely enough, each kick and punch Mendez landed reflected onto my modern self. I couldn't see nor hear the ONI interviewer. But I bet that he was confused as fuck as to why I was grunting every now and again, and why I wouldn't answer him when he spoke to me -_if _he was speaking to me which I believed he was.

Thankfully, the memory faded away and was replaced with another one that happened but a few hours later. This one was less painful physically, and more mentally. I had no idea what the Gravemind hoped to achieve by doing this. But if it was to distress me, it was doing a good job.

Samuel pushed me back as I tried to enter the mess-hall. "You attacked the Chief. What makes you think that you're welcome here?"

I found it hard to speak due to the beating Mendez gave me. But back then, nothing stopped me from speaking if I wanted to. "You don't get a say, Sam."

Sam moved out-of-the-way. "Don't call me that, 098." He said before turning around and heading back into the mess-hall with me following. And as I suspected, everyone turned to look at me when I entered.

My fellow SPARTANs were somewhat tolerable to me when I first arrived back from the city. But attacking Mendez had driven them to begin hating me. Sure, killing a dozen civvies was okay. But breaking the finger of our false father-figure was not okay.

No one let me sit next to them. Thinking back, I hated them for it. But it wasn't their fault. They were weak enough to fall under indoctrination, and I just happened to be stronger. That was what I originally thought. But then I fell under Halsey's- no, ONI's brainwashing as well. But how did that happen? When did it start? I retraced my steps, the reminiscence of my past playing through my mind.

There was no start. I was young, and foolish. I became 098 because I kept trying to become a machine to spite Halsey. The irony was fucking annoying. I turned myself into what I resented the most -a soldier- no, a machine. And all for what? Revenge. Revenge was a blinding emotion, a sick emotion.

A fine example of this was when I turned on Thel 'Lodam and tried to kill him over him killing Sheila. He was lucky that the Gravemind removed the armor I was wearing, because if it didn't, Thel would be dead. But what harm would've that done since 'Lodam decided to piss off anyway? Because he saved me multiple times before he... _disappeared_. And in the end, I _kinda _recoiled with him, forgave him. And there was that fucking irony again. When I finally convinced myself that if the moment came where I needed to lay down my life for 'Lodam, I would do it. And only hours after that, he betrayed us.

I want revenge again. And it would seem I hadn't learnt from the first time that revenge severely impacts my combat and social skills, and dampens my overall effectiveness. I tried to kill 'Lodam without any consideration about the consequences.

The same thing was with ONI. Getting revenge on them could escalate public tension into a damn civil war where thousands would die. And for what? The satisfaction of getting payback? Was it worth it?

Yes. Revenge just felt too damn good.


	28. Minds of the Tired

**[EPWW]**

(..[UNSCTTP]..)

(..[Text Doc/File]-[DF-4519-16254-09127-XX]

(..[ENCRYPTION CODE]-[OMEGA-RED]..)

(..[PUBLIC KEY]-[File/echo-tango-four-eight]..)

(..[DATE:]-[3/11/2546]..)

(..[FROM:]-[CODENAME: Jupiter]..)

(..[TO:]-[Doctor: Campbell Joyce]-[SN:CC 651333]-[ID:11903-654-7123-S]..)

(..[SUBJECT:]-[Reassignment]-[Future Objectives]..)

(..[CLASSIFICATION:]-[EYES-ONLY]-[ .PRTCL.1A]

[File/Open/Begin]

Doctor Campbell Joyce-

As per Directive-XXPER-24453445, you are being redeployed to the UNSC _Charon_-Class Light Frigate designated: _Kryptonite _where you will enact on Article C-1 to C-124 of Directive XXPER-24453445. Failure to comply with Article A-1 to A-10 of Directive-XXPER-24453445 (Following through with your reassignment and orders of reassignment) will be met with retaliation and possible punishment via Directive-XXPER-24452119 (Minimum of 25 years imprisonment, maximum of 50 years imprisonment)

Failure to enact and/or comply with Article C-1 to C-124 of Directive-XXPER-24453445 will be met with retaliation and possible punishment via Directive-XXPER-24452119 (Minimum of 25 years imprisonment, maximum of 50 years imprisonment)

You can find access to the designated Directives and their following Articles [Here] Reading is recommended, but not mandatory.

Further orders-

Lieutenant David Larson (A.K.A: The Constrictor) is currently working undercover on the UNSC _Charon_-Class Light Frigate designated _Kryptonite _as per Directive-EAE-25402212. Exposure of Lieutenant David Larson (A.K.A: The Constrictor) and failure to comply with Article F-1 to F-25 of XXPER-24453445 is direct violation of Article B-1 to B-11 of Directive EAED-25406710 and will be met with retaliation and punishment via Directive EAEU-25409123 (Life imprisonment, possible death penalty)

You can find access to the designated Directive and their following Articles [Here] Reading is mandatory.

You have 24 hours to respond.

CODENAME: Jupiter.

[File/End/Close]

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8, 2547 [1523 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, Doctor Campbell Joyce's Office, Installation 06.**

**Campbell Joyce...**

* * *

><p>Of all the people aboard the UNSC <em>Kryptonite<em>, none was more harder to read than Albert Freud.

Though, it was easy to pick up on his common likes. One of which I managed to figure out by his tendency to immediately walk over to my stereo and put in his copy of Für Elise before pressing play and taking a seat opposite me.

He never asked for my permission to use my stereo -I didn't care anyway, it was just odd that he lacked courtesy. But I did ask him about it once, and he said that the stereo belonged to the ship, and he asked Timmy in advance if he could use it. That made sense since he didn't use it the first time; he also didn't speak to me much, so he may had been nervous, and didn't want to ask me.

These facts led me to assess a part of his personality. If he was too shy to ask something, he would ask someone closer to him instead.

Thankfully, though, Albert warmed up to me, and began talking a bit more -but only when I asked him questions. This led me to assess that he isn't one to talk much unless he is asked a question, or spoken to.

As per usual: Albert took the right seat opposite me, and immediately relaxed, closing his eyes to listen to the music, but not drifting off to sleep.

I cleared my throat. "How have you been?"

"Bad." Albert replied indifferently.

"I heard that one of your fellow teammate and friend -Jayden Gray- has come out and admitted that he is gay," I began eyeing the Christian cross that was showing through his T-shirt. "How are you dealing with that?"

Albert didn't open his eyes, but replied calmly with: "Gray isn't really someone I would call a 'friend'. But nevertheless, I could not really care how he is sexually orientated."

I narrowed my eyes. "Forgive me, I just assumed that you being a Christian, you may had been opposed to homosexuality."

"I pride myself in not being stereotypical," Albert replied indifferently. "I personally believe that hating someone for being a homosexual because I'm a Christian puts a big red mark on my checklist of trends to avoid."

I leaned back into my chair, writing all the details he was telling me down onto my Data-pad with my stylus. "But how do you _personally_ feel about homosexuality?"

"'Men and women should marry and have sex with men and women' is what typical Christian representatives say again, and again, and again. I prefer to believe in a different ideology. There's the Covenant. If God created us along with every living thing in the Universe, and he's deciding the fate of all those living beings, than he is a cruel God to inflict so much suffering onto Humanity. That's where I put aside religion for logic. I believe that God only created the Universe, and left the Universe to evolve by itself while watching us and observing his creation. So, with this different point-of-view, I can't say that God intended for Humans to remain Heterosexual."

I had just heard one of the most logical things I had ever heard, and I couldn't hide the smile that appeared on my face. "I'm impressed by your perspective," I began writing everything Albert had just told me down onto my Data-pad. "I'm _really_ impressed."

"I have many reasons for seeing things this way," Albert admitted. "It mostly is caused by the complete lack of logic of 'Classical Christianity'. Adam and Eve gave birth to Humanity. They are the parents of Humanity. Now, I don't know much about that classical stuff, but if they are the parents of Humanity, then aren't we all siblings? So my wife is my sister?."

I saw where he was going, and I couldn't help but smile again. "Incest is okay in the classical bible, but homosexuality is taboo." Albert explained.

"I see your point." I agreed.

"Though most Christians still follow 'Classical Christianity', I was lucky that my parents followed 'Modern Christianity'."

"Speaking of parents: how have you been holding up not hearing about them over the past couple of weeks?"

Albert opened his eyes very quickly, almost making me jump. "Can we change the topic?" Albert was very secretive of his family. And although I had access to his history, and his family's status, he still didn't like them being bought up. I had tried to get him to open up about them for months -to no avail.

"Okay... oh, how are you coping around these 'Diverted' Covenant."

"Contact with them has been minimal. I've passed them a few times in the corridors, but I've mostly ignored them." This really made no sense. One of Albert's tendencies was to hold personal grudges against those who have harmed or caused harm to come to his friends or teammates. The Covenant wouldn't had been an exception.

Curious, I pursued my thoughts. "I thought you would've attacked them."

"I'm not suicidal; attacking an Elite with nonlethal intent will ultimately lead to my demise. And I know what you're thinking, but I only hold grudges against those who have _personally _harmed those I care about. These Diverted have slaughtered no doubt hundreds of Humans, but those Humans mean nothing to me." That made sense, and had a decent amount of logic in it.

"That's good to know. Well with that out-of-the-way, let's continue. How about your feelings of the incident with Staff Sergeant Lex Tyre?" I questioned Albert with him slowly closing his eyes to one of Mozart- no, Beethoven's most popular works.

"Tyre better stay in that coma." Albert calmly and coldly said. I realized that I had to assess if Albert was a possible threat to Lex's well-being, and decided that I had to press the issue.

"What would you do if you encountered him again?"

"The possibility of me encountering him are slim since I will not be going out of my way to look for him, and he will no doubt try to avoid me in turn. But if I did see him, I would no doubt harm him -no matter the consequences."

"You're a bit violent for a Christian."

I almost saw a smile form on Albert's face. "I believe in Heaven and Hell. But I frankly don't care which I go to. The reason I wear this cross is so luck can accompany me to the battle field -which it has so far obliged to do. And that same luck doesn't seem to give a care about what I do off the battlefield because I have almost killed people before, and God hasn't shown that he was angry at me."

"Would you kill him?"

"No. I know that the Captain could protect me if I only put him back into a coma -she has a habit of doing so to her crew. But killing him would make saving me increasingly difficult."

"Do you feel alright using Captain Jsarez like that?"

"It's hardly a tendency of mine, and it has only happened twice in my whole service to the _Kryptonite_. And the Captain has already talked to me about this, and is happy to have me keep the 'disruptive' among her crew in line with some harsh discipline."

"Really?"

Albert slightly turned his head, as if he was confused, but he didn't open his eyes. "You sound surprised. No doubt you know that I've already figured out that you're relaying all the info you're collecting on the crew back to the higher-ups, and you're surprised that I said something so risky with these facts."

He was smart. I always wanted to be a military Psychologist, but was shocked to learn that I had to break protocol at keeping patients personal secrets confidential to keep ONI happy. Still, I signed up as a military Psychologist for a single reason: To help those affected by the war.

My father had severe PTSD. It was so bad that he committed suicide out of depression. So I made it my personal agenda to help as many soldiers as I could, and to prevent the hardships that I had to suffer from happening to other families.

I sighed: "I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear that. And in return, you won't mention it again."

"I can talk about whatever I want in the presence of a doctor," Albert calmly replied. "And that doctor is obligated to listen to me, and keep anything I say to himself less it involves an assessment on my psyche."

I let out another sigh, this one having more irritation in it. I didn't like where I was. He obviously didn't like ONI, but did that reflect upon me? "You're putting me in an awkward position," I leaned forward. "Listen, I know you don't want to be here, but that's not my fault."

"I never blamed you for anything." Albert calmly reminded me, his eyes still shut, listening to the music.

"Some things don't need saying."

"That's because those things aren't in the mind of the speaker."

I let out another sigh, but this time it was in submission. He was right: He shouldn't had been afraid to tell me anything. I hated ONI. "You're right: You shouldn't be afraid to tell me anything. And _I am _severely sorry for ONI's nosiness. But there's nothing I can do."

"You could let me go." Albert suggested. I couldn't do that. And I think he knew it. But he had something up his sleeve -I knew it.

"I can't do that." I reminded him.

"I know," Albert admitted -which was odd. Albert than opened his eyes, and looked straight at me. "But tell me: Do you see a psycho in these eyes?"

I hesitated. "No." There was no signs of this man being unstable. He was fit for duty, and was fit to kill. His hatred and personal vengeance agendas against those who pissed him of, or hurt his teammates was just a tendency that I kind of admired.

"Than you don't need me here to do assessments. Just keep it to me coming each week to report anything interesting that has happened in my dull or lack of life, and I'll be happy."

I hesitated again. "Okay... so is that all?"

"Like I said: 'Dull life'."

I nodded, and Albert got out of his chair, walked over to my stereo and ejected the disk, and walked out of my office without another word. That was Albert Freud: The man of few words.

The next person to walk into my office spoke a bit more than Albert, but the way he spoke was -like Albert- devoid of emotion, and bland. He immediately made his way to the chair opposite me before seating himself with his one pale blue eye staring at me.

"How have you been, David?" I asked the young man with a surprising amount of grey hair and winkles.

Looking at David Larson, I could tell that his history with ONI was bad. He was 31, and had some features of someone that age, but he also had a very pale skin tone, winkles, and a moderately thick mustache with moderate length grey hair.

He was missing his right eye that he lost during a 'training exercise' -according to his file- and had a scar going away from the damaged eye socket and around his right temple. He had seen a lot of combat in his so far short life. And I could only guess what type of combat that was since most of his file was covered in black ink.

With David not replying, and just sitting there, staring at me, I decided to ask again. "Things been okay between you and the rest of the crew?"

"Sorry," David apologized for not answering me. "But answering your question: Things have been average at best."

"Oh?"

"The harassment I have been receiving from Fireteam Location has ceased." That took me by surprise. There was no reason that I knew of for the harassing Fireteam to leave David alone -unless the Captain had a word with them about it.

Fireteam Location mostly consisted of fresh Marine recruits being led by a particularly arrogant Marine Sergeant who seemed to think he was top shit -even better than ODSTs and _even _the SPARTAN. Arrogance was common among the Marines on the _Kryptonite_. I couldn't properly pin-point why, but it may had been that the Marines just didn't face enough combat for them to be 'emotionally broken' or they in turn were trained by a trainer who was very arrogant and seemed to think that it was the proper way for Marines to act.

"Why not?" I questioned David.

"I mostly spend my time around Lighter Than Some -who is guarded by two handpicked veterans tasked by Lynda and almost always guarded by at least one member of the Diverted. Plus, Timmy is always watching and it isn't uncommon for the Monitor of the Monarch to roam around Lighter Than Some for a high amount of time. And with all this, Fireteam Location have decided it mandatory to their physical well-being to keep their distance."

"That's good to hear." I replied happily. I was still trying to determine why exactly the members of Fireteam Location were targeting David. David was an assistant in the armory -likely a cover story so he could spy for ONI. And with this job he didn't really have any friends nor did he socialize. That fact combined with his odd appearance may had led to the targeting. David reported the Fireteam on multiple occasions to his CO -Captain Dean White. Dean did file multiple reports on the Marines, and spoke with them on multiple occasions, and they began to stop -that was until they entered Slip-Space to 'Halo' where the Marines knew they were free from the justice system. They then began annoying David again, and Dean couldn't do much to stop them unless he locked them up in the brig. He did threaten the Marines with Court-Marshal if they didn't stop, but they didn't listen. It didn't help that the Marine's Team Leader was the son of a wealthy entrepreneur who no doubt had deep ties in the UNSCDF.

I realized that this topic was done for, and decided to bring up another one that I was quite interest in. "You say you've been hanging around this 'Engineer' for most of your daily routine. Care to explain?"

"Well, it's almost as if Lighter Than Some was meant for me to interact with. He's quiet, friendly, social, doesn't really like Timmy, knows a ton of interesting and intriguing cultural related topics that I have no problem indulging in, he hates violence, he hates the Covenant for enslaving his kin -you get the picture." I did get the picture. David was the quiet, isolated type of person. He didn't like talking to anyone that he wasn't friends with, but would talk if he was asked questions, though, he did try to avoid questions related to his past -whether the person knew his past involved ONI or not. He probably spoke and opened up the most around me due to the friendship we developed over my time on the _Kryptonite_. Apparently ONI had no problems with this friendship -which was good. And I greatly enjoyed speaking to David -he had a keen interest in different cultures as did I.

"So you and the Engineer get along alright?"

"Yes," David confirmed with a nod. "Lighter Than Some has even called me his friend."

I was curious as to how he knew what the Engineer was saying. "How do you commune with it?"

"The Monarch is usually with Lighter Than Some to translate for it. But when it isn't, a Grunt is usually there to translate in the Monarch's stead."

That made me curious. "A Grunt?"

"Yeah. Apparently Grunts and Engineers get along really well within the Covenant, and a Grunt named Yoplap has had an extensive amount of experience with Engineers in his past."

"And you're sure the Grunt translates properly?"

"Lighter Than Some can understand English along with whatever barking and yapping the Grunts do, but just doesn't have the vocals to commune with those languages. But as I just said: Lighter Than Some understands what the Grunt is saying, and has told me -through the Monarch- that he will tap the Grunt over the head if the Grunt lies. So far, the Grunt hasn't lied -the Elites are saying that it's surprising that a Grunt is this well behaved."

"Can't the Engineer just install some type of translating software into your lenses?"

"There have been plans... but it'll take a large amount of time for Lighter Than Some to install the software on all the equipment on the _Kryptonite_. And Lighter Than Some has over priorities at the moment." This was bothersome as I wanted to talk to the Engineer, but I didn't want to be around the Grunt; I hated Grunts. They may had seemed harmless and almost silly with their weirdly translated voices, but they were murderers. This is what made my relationship with First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan so good -we both lost family to a Grunt in a gruesome matter. It kinda felt like Frank was my Psychologist at times due to his understanding and listening to my problems.

"Well, it's good to hear that you have a friend." I smiled.

"Yeah," David agreed in his hoarse voice. "It's a.. _different _feeling." What did he mean by that?

"'Different'?"

"I haven't had a friend before." David admitted, and I knew at that moment that I couldn't dive into why. But I still had a protocol to follow. I was also kind of hurt that David din't consider me his friend.

"Want to tell me why?"

"No." David shook his head. I was right, this was off-limits territory.

"Okay. Anything else you want to talk about? How are you dealing with the Diverted?"

"The Diverted?... I mostly just avoid them. But I often speak with Suras 'Johanamee about Sangheili culture that greatly interests me. And thankfully Suras is quite friendly towards Humans, calling us 'Reclaimer' and treating us like we're Gods. So my relations with the Diverted are _okay _-I avoid all of them except Suras, and they in turn avoid me. Other than that, there isn't anything else to talk about."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Does this mean we're done?"

I nodded. "If you have nothing more to talk about, you can leave."

"Thank you, doctor." David nodded before getting up off his seat and helping himself out.

That was my last patient for the day, so I didn't expect another person to walk in. But then again, this person wasn't a patient.

Rhine Dorhan took a seat opposite me, his eyes full of some deep sorrow -maybe that was why he was here. "Hello, Rhine, how can I help you."

Rhine let out a sigh, something was bothering him -but what? "We need to talk."

And here I was thinking that nothing could ruin my so far good day.

I was wrong.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8 2547 [1546 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Medical Bay, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>"Knock, knock."<p>

I wasn't one to openly admit my admiration for Davis's sense of humor. But after being in intense pain -that I was still somewhat in- for more than twelve hours, I was more than willing to suck up my pride and have a good laugh. And I was in no way against having a good laugh after Lynda came and informed me that my brother was safe, we had a plan to leave the ring, and my pain would slowly begin to die down.

My pain had previously decreased a lot which must had been caused by Red being saved by these... _'Hybrids'_ But I still had a massive headache that kept my head pounding nonstop. And every inch of my body hurt. The docs informed me that with this herb, the pain would begin to decrease until it was barely there. But in the meantime, I couldn't move without hurting like hell. I could talk, laugh, cough, etc. But I couldn't even twitch my head or fingers. And how I wanted to twitch my fingers.

So I was looking up at the roof of the room with Davis on the bed next to me, telling me jokes to pass the time. He apparently hadn't healed yet. On the opposite side of my bed was the Marine that Red had almost killed in the mess-hall the day before. He was still in a coma, and the docs said that the emergency surgery on his skull was successful, but he would be lucky if he woke up before we arrived back to Earth. Harvad was laying on the bed on the opposite side of Davis. When I asked why he was here, he said that he was shot in the leg by a Covenant carbine while on a mission to get the herb.

I was reminiscence on whether they should have risked their lives for me. Currently I only heard that Harvad had been injured... but Harvad was unusually quiet compared to his usual quiet, but talkative and curious self. Something happened... someone died.

I didn't initially care because I was planning on dooming my entire crew, the Sangheili, and Humanity by not leaving this ring. But that was stupid of me, and I hated myself for it.

How could had I been so selfish as to let revenge blind me? I guess it could had been the unimaginable pain I was in. But it was still foolish of me. I only needed to hear Davis's joking attitude to remember that not all of Humanity is bad, and there are those worth saving. And even if there wasn't, the Sangheili needed saving. Well, that was if they were worth saving.

I didn't answer for a couple of seconds, but eventually replied with: "Who's there?"

"Henry Baker." Davis chuckled, obviously having something good in mind. Though I couldn't see it; 'Henry Baker' made no sense.

I let out a small smile. "Henry Baker who?"

"What do you mean?" Davis snapped, almost making me jump. "We've known each other for years; _fucking hell_, I'm here because you invited me for a barbecue."

I let out a chuckle as the doc next to me who was assigned to over-watch me let out a chuckle as well. Harvad, however, remained silent.

"That's a unique spin." Chief Medical Officer Howard Klyn remarked. From the location of his voice, I concluded that he was over at his desk by the entrance to the bay, going through data on his Data-pad.

Klyn wore a basic doctor coat with the badges and insignia of being the Chief Medical Officer covering the coat. He had to had been in his 50's with his hair balding and graying and deep wrinkles beginning to appear along his pale face. But other than that, he had a fairly average face; dark blue eyes, high eyebrow bridges, a round nose with thin lips and a sharp jaw. His build was also fairly nice, but that was to be suspected after I heard that he had the tendency of going to the ships' gym for exercise. But he definitely wasn't ripped, but he was thin enough to attract a women if he didn't already have a wife and two children waiting for him back on Reach.

"Yeah," Davis agreed. "But believe it or not: _I_ didn't actually make this joke up."

"Who did, then?" The doc over-watching me asked. This doc was a female with the badges and insignia of a basic doctor on her coat, and her badge read 'B. Tarras' She was white pale and had a pretty, young face. It was a wonder that she hadn't been harassed by the crew. I also had the thought that Davis was only pretending that his arm was still broken to be able to spend more time around her -this theory was supported further by his silent flirting and chatting with her.

"My father." Davis replied.

"Was he a comedian?" Harvad asked Davis. This was the first time that Harvad has spoken in a while. But I kinda understood his question as he was an aspiring war poet and his father was the same. Perhaps this was a good way for Harvad and Davis to connect as I heard from reports that Harvad had had trouble interacting with his comrades due to his low social skills.

"Yeah," Davis confirmed. "He even appeared on TV a bit, though you wouldn't have heard of him."

"Like father like son." Harvad chuckled. "Same with me. My father was a war poet, and becoming a war poet is an aspiration of mine."

"Guess this crew is full of people aspiring to be like their fathers." Davis joked.

"Not me," Klyn interjected. "My father is a robber of three different banks; he even murdered a cop."

"Sorry to hear that." Davis replied, sorrow in his voice.

"It doesn't really bother me. He was never close to me and my mother; always visiting brothels, getting drunk, gambling -you know, typical drunken, unfaithful, fatherly stuff."

"I'm still sorry." Davis said.

"Thank you." Klyn thanked Davis, gratitude in his voice. I read Klyn's psych report, and took into attention how oblivious he was of his father's actions. But he seemed upset when people said something bad about it as he cut the finger off a Marine who mocked him right to his face with a scalpel. It took a lot of pleading to NAVCOM before I managed to convince them to let Klyn off the hook. The Marine wasn't so happy, and took me to the court in turn. It was a big month; me going to court to defend Klyn, me going to court to defend myself, then me going to court to try to court-marshal the Marine for harassing Klyn. Thankfully, as usual, I got my way each and every time.

"I'd be morally wrong not to say sorry." Davis mumbled.

"Chief," Doctor Tarras called Klyn. "It's been ten minutes."

"Okay dokey." The Chief said. I heard his chair scrap back on the tiles as he got up and walked over to me, appearing over me with Tarras on the opposite side of my bed, doing the same.

"Captain, try blinking five times." Klyn told me.

I blinked five times, pain thumping through my head each time.

Doctor Tarras got her Data-pad and stylus out of her coat pocket. "How did that feel?" Klyn asked me.

"A thumping, pressure like pain went through my head each time. It wasn't enough to make me grunt, but enough to keep me unfocused during operational duties."

Klyn placed his gloved hands on either side of my head, slowly turning it to its' sides. I couldn't help but let out a small grunt of pain at the movement. "Does this hurt?" Klyn asked me.

"Yes." I confirmed.

"Okay, we'll give it another ten minutes for the herbs to kick in before trying again." Klyn concluded, writing down his assessment onto his Data-pad.

"Thank you, doctor." I thanked Klyn. Klyn nodded in return before walking back towards his desk.

"This sucks." Davis muttered.

"What does?" I questioned him.

"What's happening to you."

I let out an oblivious moan. "Can't be helped."

"I suppose not." Davis sighed as the doors to the medical bay hissed open.

"Officer on deck!" Davis called out. I heard him leap out of his bed and likely salute whoever it was that entered the room.

"Wounded aren't expected to maintain standards." White's voice told Davis.

"Where and when was this mentioned?" Davis questioned White, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"It wasn't. A soldier should be smart enough to use common sense."

"That's stupid." Davis observed.

"I don't make the rules, Corporal, I just reinforce them."

Davis let out an annoyed moan. "How am I meant to take this up with HIGHCOM?"

"You don't." White replied. Davis let out an annoyed groan as he jumped back onto his bed as White began walking, his footsteps indicating that he was heading over to the beds. He was here to either speak with me or Harvad. It was likely me. Oddly enough, when White came to give the docs the herb, he began talking to me, telling me that my brother was safe in an almost happy manner, and reassuring me things would be alright. He seemed very distracted in looking at me. I think he might had been attracted to me. How was I meant to react to this? I had no idea. I didn't want to start any sexual relationship with anyone until I found my brother. But I found him, so now what? Did I even like White? He was... hot of sorts; having a typical strong Marine build with a strong face, sharp green eyes, and a thin mouth along with his dark brown hair being shaved off to a 3 with a thick stubble growing across his face. He was definitely a ladies type of man, and he stood taller than anyone else on the _Kryptonite _-the only exception being Red. And he was around my age. But I hardly knew anything about him, and hardly have ever talked to him. Did I have it wrong? Was he attracted to me? He had no family back home, and was never married. Was he a virgin? I didn't think I could handle walking someone through having sex with me. I quickly realized I was getting ahead of myself, and getting myself sexually arouse at the thought was the last thing I needed.

White seated himself on the chair next to my bed. I couldn't see him, but I could smell the deodorant he was- _why the fuck_ _was he wearing deodorant?!_

"How have you been, ma'am?" White asked me.

"I've been better; I've been worse. Can't say that this is what I want for my average feelings."

White let out a small chuckle. "How's R- Sierra-098?" I asked him, quickly correcting my mistake.

"The surgery was a success, and the Gravemind's spore was successfully suppressed. Though the Monitor had warned us that the Gravemind would still be able to take control of Red for at least five minutes once a day -maybe more on occasion. Oh, and ma'am, you can call him Red -the entire crew knows everything."

That was bothersome as I was not quite ready for my crew to know, but I nevertheless put it aside and let out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear, and fortunate; _where the hell_ did those floating orbs of annoyance find the stuff to do the surgery?"

"Apparently there's a storage facility on this ring that has all the necessary supplies. And thankfully this storage unit hasn't been captured by the Covenant or the Flood. But to avoid any more.. _inconveniences _to happen if the Flood or Covenant _did_ take control of the facility, Keyes ordered the Monitor to have its' Sentinels shift as much of the storage onto the _Kyrptonite_. Keyes did the same with the armor and weapons, but the Monitor has informed us that the Covenant have gained control of the ring's armory."

"Shit," I growled. "Covenant running around with that tech? We'll be screwed if we have to engage."

"The Monitor told me that the weapons and armor have a fail-safe if they were ever captured by the Flood, and Keyes ordered it to initiate the fail-safe."

"So the weapons and armor are destroyed?"

"Yes, ma'am. And as a bonus, that fail-safe went boom."

"A lot of dead Covies?"

"A lot," White confirmed, amusement in his voice. "And as a bonus to that bonus, the Monitor said that the facility was full of Jiralhanae -meaning that the Prophet of Pity likely sent in his Brute pets to secure the place over an Elite scout team. So 'Lodam is happy as well."

"And I care that he is happy _why_?"

"It's better than him being pissed, ma'am, especially after Red tried to kill him."

"Harvad told me about that; they didn't hurt each other, did they?"

"'Lodam seemed to understand that Red needed to remain alive. But he was, nonetheless, _betrayed _by Red's actions."

"He trusted him?" I asked, astonishment in my voice.

"Amazingly, yes. 'Lodam is pissed and hurt that Red betrayed him -according to what the Monarch has told me via watching him and his Diverted bitch about it in the officers' lounge."

"That's sad. But frankly I really don't care about what he feels as long as he doesn't try to do something that will be against our best interest."

"Well, believe it or not, ma'am, Red seemed to be 'Lodam's faith in Humanity. As long as Red stayed loyal and truthful to Red, 'Lodam trusted Humanity. Now..." White trailed off.

"This could be bad." I concluded.

"Very bad, ma'am," White agreed.

"What about these _'Hybrids'_?" I questioned him.

"They've been bought aboard the ship; quarantine was to be held but the Monitor assured as that they're clean. They're currently being held in the brig with the Monarch and Doctor Day communicating with them. We'll know more within the hour."

"That's good." I remarked. "Oh, where's Red now?" Red wasn't in the medical bay which meant that he was either in recovery, or up and about. The second option seemed unlikely as I was still in a lot of pain.

"He's in recovery, ma'am, No doubt he'll be drowsy when he wakes up. And if the Gravemind takes control of him again, there may be a problem of the Gravemind wanting revenge against Colonel Keyes."

I let out a sigh. "Isn't there anyway we can remove the spore?"

"According to the Monarch and Monitor, the spore can't be removed without killing Red."

"How does that work?"

"Well, if we try to remove the spore, the Gravemind will just destroy the brain -taking Red down with it as a 'fuck you' to us. I have the docs thinking up an idea on what to do."

"Hopefully something will come up," I mused. "But it's really fucking irritating that the Forerunner's couldn't figure any of this out."

"Well -from what the Monarch has told us- the Flood attacked the Forerunners almost out of nowhere, and they had little time to react, and spent most of their time developing _weapons _to combat the Flood. They tried to research cures, but nothing ever worked."

I groaned in annoyance. "The Forerunners: The Most advance race in the Universe, yet they keep fucking up all our plans and inconveniencing the fuck out of us _from beyond the goddamn grave_!"

"'Beyond the grave'?" Davis mused "Looks like the Forerunners are the champions of every Human war game currently running."

I let out a chuckle as White in turn smirked. A thought just came to my find, I needed to question White on something. "White, who died trying to get this herb?"

White narrowed his eyes, seemingly confused about how I knew. But he quickly replied. "Mary Trinsky, and Peter Call are KIA, ma'am,"

I let out a sad sigh, and began twitching my fingers against the docs orders with Tarras quickly -but calmly- grabbing them and stroking them to calm them down. "I appreciate your efforts for me, Captain, but I _really _wasn't worth the loss of life."

"Yes you were, ma'am," White quickly interjected. "No one else can get this ship back to Earth intact. As hard as it sounds, two lives are more than expendable for you to become operational. And it wasn't all meant to be about getting the herb; we were meant to encounter this Elite Spec-Ops team that 'Lodam hoped to communicate with -that was the only reason he chose to accompany us up there."

I let out a sigh. "As much as I hate your point to its' core... it has enough leverage and logic to persuade me from giving you an earful."

White grabbed my hands and held them together over my chest. I almost jumped at his physical contact with me. "It hurts me to say it as much as it hurts you, ma'am. But it's always the hard shit that's the true shit."

"It's also the healthiest shit." Davis joked from where he was laying. White let out a grunt of annoyance and I couldn't help but chuckle. Despite the deep topic me and White were discussing, Davis had the bulls to try to pull a joke, and I could respect him for that. You didn't need to charge head-first into battle to have bulls.

After my chuckling died down, I let out a sigh. "Doctor, should I be in here overnight?"

"Chief?" Tarras asked Klyn who no doubt heard my question.

Klyn let out a sigh. "All the pain your feeling is mental -not physical. So you should be able to leave as soon as Sierra-098 is up and about. But I'd like you to report any pain you're having -headaches, nausea, drowsiness, fatigue, pain in your joints, anything because due to Sierra-098's high pain threshold, he may not be able to pick up on any potential life threatening symptoms."

"Got it. It'll be nice to sleep in my bed again; it may had been one night, but it feels like an eternity."

"Technically, it's the UNSC's bed." Davis jokingly corrected me.

"Too bad." I grumbled.

"Right," White got up from his seat next to me. "I'll let you get some rest, ma'am. No doubt you'll need it for when you meet with your brother." That was right, my brother had broken through his supposedly 'fake personality' -that was at least what Lynda told me. But I had my brother back. But there was a problem.

"I'm not yet ready to face him." I admitted. For the past twelve or so hours, I had wished death upon my brother so my pain would end. And during those hours, I was driven to near insanity by a false hatred I had for Red for some reason I forgot. It sounded so stupid that I hated him for reasons I couldn't remember, but I just couldn't explain it to myself. And with these two facts, I needed time to think about what I'd say to him.

"It's okay, just take your time." White calmly advised me.

"Thank you." Despite my limited relationship with White, he was a good person. Lynda even said that he was the first to volunteer for the mission to find the herb for my treatment, and she seemed to think it was more than just loyalty that he did it. The thought of White caring for me seemed strange and untrue, but he really did care for me by the way he acted around me lately -he couldn't deny it.

There really was no way I could thank White for what he had done for me; no way I could repay him for the two Marines he watched die for me. But there was something I could do. I could repay him with getting to know him as he clearly wanted to get to know me. I still had no idea why he was wearing deodorant. But narrowed it down to him being either an idiot, or trying to attract me to him.

I couldn't have asked him at the moment for obvious reasons, but when I was back in my quarters, I would invite him for dinner. I was already planning on having a feast, and I was planning on inviting Lynda, so why not have White there as well. Despite my rooms size, it did have room for a small table able to fit four, and that would be enough. And with Lynda there it would prevent any moves White would make on me as I_ really _didn't want to enter some type of sexual relationship with him or anyone at the moment.

But knowing Lynda, she would encourage it as she had tried to 'get me a stud' ever since I met her. 'Stud'? I wasn't that old. But that was Lynda -always the joker when it came to interacting with me.

But if push did come to shove, would I embrace it? Did I want to make that type of commitment... did I want to take the risk? I thought Eric might had understood my reluctance... but he instead raped me and left me with a child that I had murdered. Would White be the same? Did I even want to be happy? I found Red, so I could be happy. But I still didn't know if this was the Red I once knew... if it was my brother.

I was torn between the two different paths. One was to be happy with White but risk being hurt again. And the second was to avoid a relationship with White, and miss out on the potential to be happy with White. Perhaps I was getting ahead of myself; I didn't know much about White, but it was obvious that he was interested in me -I knew men enough to pick up on it. Plus, there was the damn deodorant.

I ultimately decided that if it came down to it, I would simply do what I was very good at doing: Improvising.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**I'm not quite sure if every ****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate has a military Psychologist stationed on it, and think about it: Two ONI Agents, an ODST Fireteam consisting of criminals employed by ONI, advanced tech, advanced AI, unorganized military structure... this isn't your average ****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate, and more will be explained in the future.**

**I also suppose you're all wondering what's happening with Vale Nar 'Sarasee. Well, he got pretty beaten up, so I'm planning on having him in a coma for a bit because of it. But as you may have seen in the Special Chapter, Careekius has things handled, and you aren't missing out on all the action, and there isn't a civil war going on between the Sangheili and Jiralhanae -the Great Schism hasn't begun yet ;D**


	29. A Dinner Devoid of Romance

[UNSC-DP-SWMS-v.5.7]

[Date]-[8/11/2547/1748]

[To]-[Captain Dean White/SN: 00244-81437-DW]

[From]-[Captain Courtney Jsarez/SN: 99342-72810-CJ]

[File/Open/Begin]

Captain.

The docs finally released me, and I'm so far doing great. I'm still feeling Red's nausea from his surgery, and my head and brain hurt _like hell_, but the docs said that it's to be expected, and painkillers are starting to bring the pain down.

The pain I went through will leave me permanently scared for life; I don't need a doc to tell me that. And due to this, Klyn has recommended me for sessions with Doctor Joyce. Not quite sure whether or not I should go along with it as Freud has confirmed my suspicions of Joyce relaying confidential Intel of us back to ONI. But I suppose it doesn't matter as by the time what Intel he collects on me gets into ONI's hands, they'll already know that _I'm pissed_.

Anyway, back onto the point. Like I said, the pain I went through has left me mentally crippled, and I'm gonna sleep like a baby tonight. But first, I'm going to eat like a _pig_.

I've invited Keyes to have sushi with me as eating alone right now _doesn't really_ sound good to my ears.

Now, Keyes would be enough, but I wanted to also invite you.

You volunteered to save me, and you're not choosing to hate me over my state of pain getting Trinsky and Call killed. I can respect you for both your loyalty, bravery, and your logic.

I can't do much to thank you, though. But I think getting to know you better is a start.

I admit that it's not good for morale that I don't interact with my crew to the level that I should. But they never really cared, anyway. At least that's what Keyes tells me.

I want to change this... starting with you.

You can refuse, of course, and I won't resent you for it. But I'd really like it if you accepted... I have some _things _I'd like to discuss with you and Keyes.

If you do accept, dress in your normal fatigues, wear Clinshic Freshness, and bring a bottle of _Carlo Rossi_. Oh, and bring something for yourself if you don't like sushi.

If you decline, you better not act awkward around me as that will severely tamper out operational effectiveness.

Looking forward to your reply.

[File/End/Close]

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8 2547 [1842 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Captain Quarters, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>The door to my room opened, and Lynda walked in with a plastic bag in her hands.<p>

"I have to give credit to Petes; he knows how to cook sushi. Smells just about right."

I grinned; not many chefs on UNSC ships could cook food from _Earth _so perfectly unless they were Japanese. I fell in love with sushi after moving to _Pirth City _on _Arcadia_ that had a Japanese restaurant.

I befriended the family, and learnt a lot about Japanese culture, and I learnt a lot of things I did in the restaurant likely pissed them off or made me seem rude. The family didn't seem to hold it against me, and came to accept me as almost family.

They all died when the Covenant hit Arcadia.

Thinking about how such beautiful and friendly people died reminded me that those who served their killer were on _my _ship. 'Lodam, and his Diverted.

"You okay?" Lynda asked me, seeing the dark expression that appeared over my face.

"Just remembering." I didn't hear about the family's death until after I met Lynda back on _Earth_; I thought they made it by the reports. And when I heard, I broke down. And Lynda was there, caring for me when I hardly even knew her.

That's what a good Human was. And I needed to do the best to make sure Humans like her survived. And the opposite... ONI... they would all die.

Lynda walked past the bed I was sitting on, placed the plastic bag on the bench, and walked over to me.

I peered over to the bench with the plastic bag, and took a deep sniff of the smell emitting from it. I loved that smell so much, and the memory of the sushi I used to eat with that Japanese family bought tears to my eyes.

Lynda broke into a hurry and sat down on the bed where she comforted me. She knew what was happening, and she didn't say a word. All she did was place her hand on my head and shoulder, and hold me tight.

Lynda wasn't the type of person to show caring emotions around the crew. But when it came to me, she would comfort me no matter what. Thankfully, I never really needed comforting around the crew.

I quickly shrugged Lynda off and got up. "Sorry," I apologized. "I need to clean myself up before White arrives."

"Of course." Lynda nodded. I turned around and began walking to my private bathroom.

Despite my rooms size, it was definitely a Captains quarters with all types of home appliances. Next to my door on the left between where the front and left wall connected was a desk with my private terminal on it. My bed was on the right side of the door on my front wall, going along the right wall. By the end of my bed was the entrance to my private bathroom, and to the left of my bed where my head rested was a small table with a digital clock and a few other miscellaneous objects on it. Going across my back wall was the kitchen area with all the essential appliances. Going along the right wall leading up to my desk was the small table with a few seats around it. Everywhere save my kitchen and bathroom were covered in carpet while my kitchen and bathroom had tiles. The ceiling of my quarters was low with lights built into it. The walls themselves were kinda nice and didn't have the tubes, pipes, and cords that appeared along the walls in the corridors thanks to some shielding put up.

It was small, but it was enough for me.

I entered my bathroom and made my way over to my sink, sniffing. I looked up to the mirror and saw redness in my simple green eyes. I quickly wiped my eyes, attempting to get rid of the redness. I was tired, and still in a great deal of pain.

Eventually the redness began to die down, and I started washing the tears away from my face. I was pathetic. I couldn't believe I wanted to doom Humanity while in my state of pain. Even thinking like that insults the memory of that family. I didn't believe in supernatural forces, so no one could know what I was thinking. But I still needed to atone for how I thought. But how could I?

I was in the bathroom for a couple of minutes, and being worried, Lynda called out: "Courtney! You okay?!"

"Yeah." I replied, wiping the water off my face before leaving the bathroom.

Lynda had wasted no time getting plates and other utensils out and began dishing up the sushi. The box that the chef, Petes, packed the food in contained different variants of sushi from Makizushi -my personal favorite- to Inarizushi. The raw fish could often set people off -it set me off at first- but it's easy to work around. But I must admit that I originally found Japanese weird when I heard that they ate _raw fish_. I still hated myself for being so judgmental.

I ultimately came to find sushi to be my favorite food. It may had just been me, but I figured that it was always foreign food that was the greatest.

I made my way over to the table and seated myself as Lynda continued dishing the food up.

I was not surprised when White accepted my invitation. But I was surprised that his reply made no mention of the deodorant brand I joked about in the message. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to mention it -I didn't know. I still felt bad for putting that in, but Lynda convinced me after saying that White could take the joke. But did he really? Perhaps taking jokes from friends was one thing, but your Captain may had been another.

I didn't even know why people wore perfume and deodorant. I understood male teens' needs to wear deodorant. But why the heck a grown man? Whatever the case, I often enjoyed the smell.

"Captain," Timmy's voice said over my quarter's intercoms. "I am detecting a high stress levels and an increase of your heart rate from 78 bpm to 136 bpm; I recommend a cease of your planned dinner."

I would've normally scolded Timmy for what he said, but I realized during my state of pain that I didn't show enough appreciation, and that this was his personality -not him being annoying. Timmy saved the asses of me and the crew on a number of times, and I needed to make sure that he realized that I acknowledged and appreciated it without downright saying it out loud.

"Thanks for you concern, Timmy, but I'll be fine in a couple of moments." I placed my hand over my heart and began pressing down on it in an attempt to calm myself.

"Understood, ma'am. But it goes against the doctor's recommendation along with my own. If you feel dizzy, nauseous, or your chest hurts, please report it to me immediately without refraining due to current events."

"Gotcha, Timmy. I'll do so. And thanks."

"Of course, ma'am."

"That's odd." Lynda observed, bringing the wine glasses over to the table.

I figured she'd pick up on it; Lynda was one of the ones who knew very well that I got annoyed easily by Timmy. "I'm not gonna complain to him when he's just worrying 'bout me." I told Lynda.

"That hasn't stopped you before." Lynda reminded me, placing the glasses down on the table in front of the seats that me, her, and White were going to be seated in.

"I was an idiot before." I admitted as Lynda turned and made her way back over to the bench to finish dishing the food up.

"I hope you ain't realizing that for the first time."

"What." I coldly questioned Lynda.

"It'd be pretty crazy if you only realize now that you've always been an idiot," Lynda turned around and smiled. "I'm just fucking with you, Courtney."

"I still outrank you," I warned her. "You wanna get court-martialled?"

"Nope. But I think It would be funny to see the face's of those FLEETCOM morons when they see you taking your best pal to court."

"That would be pretty funny..." I agreed.

"Wanna try it?"

I laughed. Why the hell not? I was already planning on fucking up every law in the book to go against ONI, so why not fuck around a bit more. "Hell yeah."

Timmy's emotionless voice immediately cut in. "Captain, I highly advise you to reconsider your words."

Shit was what immediately came to my mind. As much as I didn't care what Timmy did, he could lock me out of the _Kyrptonite's _systems if he considered me doing war crimes and going against protocol. I could just have the Monitor or the Monarch kick his ass in turn, but the trouble wasn't worth it, and the spooks on the _Kryptonite _would surely find out about Timmy's reasons, and give me hell in return.

"I'm joking, Timmy." I calmly reassured the AI.

"You were?" Lynda asked, sounding annoyed.

"Of course I was," I confirmed. "I'm not stupid enough to try that!"

"To be honest, Courtney, I still don't really know how stupid you can get."

I laughed again. "And hopefully you never will."

"Glad that you have reconsidered." Timmy said. As much as I wanted to fuck with FLEETCOM, I didn't want to do anything that could harm Timmy. Plus, there was the chance that the fat-faced morons at FLEETCOM didn't know about ONI's bullshit, so they don't really deserve my backlash.

Lynda finished dishing up the food and bought the plates over to the table before setting them down and taking a seat. Not even a minute after he last spoke, Timmy's voice was heard again. "Captain, Captain White has arrived at your quarters, and is awaiting for me to request your permission to let him in."

I nervously smiled. "He can come in, Timmy, but tell the lazy bastard that he can let himself in."

"Affirmative, Captain." Timmy replied.

The doors opened to have White walk in, dressed in his off-duty military fatigues carting a bottle of _Carlo Rossi_ in his hands. What impressed me was his lack of a bag carrying his own food which meant that he liked sushi, or was willing to try something different.

It was rare that anyone not born on _Earth_ had tried sushi as the ingredients for it were not easy to come by. Thankfully Japanese chefs managed to adapt to growing the ingredients on foreign planets. And from personal experience, they taste exactly the same.

Lynda wasn't initially into sushi -thinking that she wouldn't like it. But all I needed to do was buy her one serving of Makizushi to make her instantly love the food. I was very proud of myself that I made Lynda admit she was wrong.

Lynda burst out laughing with me turning around to face her. I was about to ask what she was laughing about when I smelt it. White was actually wearing Clinshic Freshness. I couldn't help but burst out laughing as well -men were so stupid when it came to trying to impress women.

White looked confused at first, but eventually figured it out, and began laughing his head off as well.

Once we all stopped laughing, Lynda smashed her hand down onto the table, making me jump. "Dammit, White, haven't you learnt _anything_ over the years?"

"Excuse me, ma'am?" White asked, a shit ton of confusion in his tone and on his face.

"You haven't saluted." Lynda informed him, anger in her voice.

"Shit." he muttered, quickly placing the wine bottle down onto my terminal desk and snapping to attention.

I decided to play along. "Don't put the wine _there_!"

"_Fuck._" White muttered as he snapped the bottle back up into his hands, breaking his salute.

"I didn't say _at ease!_" Lynda snapped at him.

"Captain White," Timmy broke in over the intercoms. "After analyzing the tone and voice patterns of Captain Jsarez and Lieutenant Colonel Keyes, I have established that they are joking."

Timmy always ruined the fun. "_Thanks, Timmy_." I growled in annoyance.

"Apologies, ma'am, but your joking with Captain White was very inconvenient and unprofessional." He had a point, could White think me as a joking idiot? Did I just screw up my reputation.

"It's fine, Timmy," White chuckled. "I'm just glad to know that the Captain has the sense of humor that Colonel Keyes said she had." Could he read my mind?

I sighed. "Come take a seat, Captain." I gestured to the empty seat where his plate and glass were.

"Thanks ma'am." He nodded, making his way over to the table where he placed the bottle of _Carlo Rossi _down before taking a seat himself.

"So, you like sushi, Captain?" I asked White, trying to make up conversation as Lynda poured the _Carlo Rossi_ wine into each of our wine glasses.

"Haven't tried it before, Captain." He replied.

If he hadn't tried it before, why didn't he bring his own food in case he didn't like it? "You should had bought your own in case." I rolled my eyes.

White chuckled. "I've never not liked a foreign food after trying it. And I'm already a fan of rice."

"Not even raw fish?" I questioned him.

Lynda butted in while handing me my glass back. "Ma'am, if you actually remember the Captain's file, you'll know that he's eaten a lot worse than raw fish."

"What do you mean?" I questioned Lynda, noticing White redirecting his eyes in what seemed like shame.

Lynda turned her gaze to White. "Can I?"

"There isn't a reason you can't. "White replied.

Lynda returned her gaze to me. "He and his platoon were pinned down during a battle on Harvest. Supplies couldn't get flown in, and his boys were dying of starvation. So, doing what I consider admirable rather than disgusting, he began eating his dead comrades -raw."

"That was him!" I exclaimed. "I thought that was Frank Sullivan!" I was tired when I began reading my CO's files, so it was likely that I got facts and info mixed up.

"And like I said, you should had taken a rest instead of reading all the CO's files in one sitting." Lynda grumbled.

White was a cannibal... how did I feel about that? Lynda said she admired him for it... "You ate your friends..." I suddenly said, not thinking to hold my tongue. I instantly regretted saying that as I couldn't judge him like that.

Before I could apologize, Lynda spoke up. "Ma'am, I would do the same to your dead corpse and I expect my man to do the same to me. This war will cripple Humanity if we do manage to survive it; we can't take the risk of losing soldiers over what is morally wrong or right."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that." I apologized.

"It's okay." White reassured me, smiling as well.

"It just shocked me." I admitted.

Lynda let out a chuckle. "If you think _you _were shocked you should had seen me."

White chuckled as well. "Yeah, the Lieutenant Colonel tracked me back to the base I was stationed at prior to joining your crew and actually hit me; saying that I wasn't a soldier but a monster."

"But the Captain here has his way with words," Lynda added. "and he managed to convince me that his survival could save hundreds of people, and that dying over what is taboo wasn't worth those hundreds of lives that could be lost."

"And ironically, I _have_ saved thousands of lives." White added, but not sounding proud.

He was right. Back on _Quaint _he managed to successfully EVAC thousands of civvies from a city under siege by the Covenant. I intended to have him receive the Colonial Cross for his efforts, but never got around to the recommendation as it was the next day that the Monarch approached the orbiting Human fleet for assistance. I also felt shameful that I didn't try to get to know White more after his deeds, or personally congratulate him -I was a pathetic Captain.

"I was meant to congratulate you," I admitted. "I also intended to have you receive the Colonial Cross."

"Thanks ma'am," White smiled. "but you didn't have to congratulate me or do all the paperwork for the recommendation."

"A good Captain always shows acknowledgement for their crew's deeds." I calmly reminded him.

"You're already a good Captain." He reassured me.

"And a good person overall." Lynda added.

"Thanks." I smiled as I picked up my chopsticks and began carefully picking up my Makizushi rolls.

White looked at me curiously. "What are those?" He questioned me.

White grew up on _Itamin II _which wasn't know for its' Asian population, and likely had no idea what chopsticks were. "Chopsticks," I informed him. "Commonly used by the Asian Nations back on Earth instead of forks or knifes."

"Seems... _complicated_, Captain."White observed.

He had no idea. It took me months of using the chopsticks each day to get the hang of it. "It is." I confirmed.

"That's why I never use them," Lynda added, picking up her fork and knife before cutting up her food. "Life's already too complicated for me to have me try to learn complicated things that have no relevance."

I agreed with her. She didn't have an easy life as a Lieutenant Colonel, and was constantly stressed. I noticed that when she ate, it was almost like she was having a warm bath; like she was relieving stress.

It was the same with me. But I learnt how to use chopsticks before the full constraint of being a CO hit me.

I put the roll I picked up into my mouth while observing White put his own in his mouth. "Wow," White's eyes widened. "This is really good!"

Something was bothering me that I needed to get out-of-the-way. "Captain, not to bring up past events, but I'm _really_, _really _sorry about bringing up your past just then."

"Courtney..." Lynda sighed, using my first name in an informal matter that I didn't want her to use in front of the crew.

"It's fine, ma'am," White reassured me. "I think about them constantly every day, so you didn't make me remember anything I wanted to forget."

"Don't blame yourself," I told him, taking a sip out of my wine glass. "Now that you have explained why you did it, I'd likely do the same."

White let out a sigh. "I only hope that they would understand what I did if they were still here."

I decided to make a suggestion. "Do you have counseling sessions with Doctor Joyce?"

"No, ma'am; never really seen the point."

"It's right there." Lynda informed him.

"I guess..." White trailed off.

"Will you be so reluctant when I order you to see him?" I asked White.

"No, ma'am."

I let out a sigh. "Fuck regulations and protocol; call me Courtney."

"Finally!" Lynda grumbled. "I _hate _calling you 'Captain' and 'ma'am' it's annoying as hell!"

Timmy's voice sounded off as I predicted. "Captain Jsarez, I highly recommend you keep to a professional level as per protocol."

I let out an angry sigh. "Protocol can go screw itself because listed in these protocols is the damned law that said it was okay to kidnap my six-year-old brother along with who knows how many more and conscript them to fight _Humans_."

"Naval Code 45812 was put into effect by ONI without the knowledge of the UNSC and remains a Naval protocol -not a military protocol. So these facts conclude it irrational to disobey UNSC formality protocols."

I took this in consideration, and quickly gave my answer. "Timmy, I thank you for your commitment to uphold regulations. But I frankly don't care anymore. Do what you want in retaliation, but know that this ship ain't returning to Earth without me as it's _full _and _operational _Captain. Whatever happens after that can be of ONI's concern -not yours."

Timmy gave in. "Acknowledged, ma'am. I'll be making a full report to file when we return to Earth. I apologize for this turn of events as I saw great potential in your career."

I chuckled. "I only joined the Navy because it was connected to ONI. And getting to ONI was what I wanted more than anything as I knew ONI were behind what happened -who else could it be?"

"Whatever happens, ma'am, we're with you." White reassured me.

"Yeah," Lynda agreed. "I'm not gonna take orders from assholes that would sacrifice the innocence of a child for their own personal goals."

I smiled at their loyalty. "Thanks, guys. But all this talk of a future conflict against _Humans _has made me remember that we're meant to be having a nice dinner."

White chuckled. "Glad to know I ain't alone in thinking that horrific topics get bought up _way _too much."

"Well, I've got a topic," Lynda announced. "How 'bout getting to know each other."

I chuckled again. "Lynda, I know what your favorite color is, so I don't see the need to 'get to know each other'."

Lynda smiled like she was thinking of something, took a sip of her wine, and put her wine glass back down. "Oh yeah? What's my favorite color."

I smiled. I would first say what her color is, and then she would ask me how I knew about it. "Purple."

She slammed her fist down onto the table in annoyance. "_How the hell do you know_?!"

"You muttered it as I was taking you home from that club we first me at."

"You _remember _that small detail from all those years ago?" Lynda questioned me.

"Lynda, some of the things you said in that taxi will remain with me for the rest of my life." I chuckled.

White cleared his throat. "My I divert the topic?"

I nodded for him to continue which he did. "You said in your invitation that you needed to talk to me and Lynda about some stuff."

I let out a 'ohhh' of realization. "Yeah, that was mostly related to Red and ONI -what we just talked about. I was kinda gonna ask for your stance on it, but you guys made it clear."

"Well, I guess I have no reason to be here anymore." White got up off of his seat and walked over to the door where he opened it and walked out, leaving me and Lynda dumbstruck.

"_What the fuck_?!" We both exclaimed in unison.

Before we could continue, the door opened to have a grinning White walk back in. "Sweet revenge!"

"_Whatever_." Lynda grumbled as White took his seat again.

"Do that again, and I'll send you to the brig." I warned him.

He grinned. "And I'll have you court-martialled for illegally using your superior power for personal use."

He had me there, I must admit. But we were both joking -hopefully he knew that; his playful tone reassured me that he did.

We continued to eat, drink, and laugh all through the night with White telling us various jokes he picked up from the men, telling us the funny story about how he got one of his tattoos, and revealing dirty secrets of some of the COs. It was a surprisingly great night. I didn't learn much more about White other than how his personality worked. He had a good sense of humor, and was surprisingly comfortable around me -his Captain that he hardly even talked to. I guessed it helped that Lynda likely told him a lot about my own personality.

At around 2230 hours White retired back to the barracks, leaving me and Lynda to dwell on what happened. He seemed to like me; why else would he wear deodorant? Perhaps the first time at the med-bay was to impress the nurse, and the reason he wore it tonight was just to joke around. Wait? Did I get it messed up? Did he not like me after-all? Why did men have to be _so _difficult?!

There was about 5 minutes of awkward silence with us both thinking on tonight's events until Lynda spoke up.

"So, do you like him?"

Lynda wasn't smiling as I suspected her to when she asked me. Unlike the rest of the night, she wasn't joking around. As to if I liked him... "Yes." I confirmed.

"But you don't trust him." Lynda concluded. And no, I didn't. He seemed nice and all... but _so did _Eric. Trust was something that was really hard for me. The Japanese family, Lynda... I only trusted them out of the love I had for them.

"You're the only person I'll ever trust." I calmly replied, taking a last sip of my wine. This wine was made by a family back in the 21st century and their company was _still _running. Thinking about it, a lot of stuff from the 21st century were around in the modern years. It must had been due to the groundbreaking century the 21st century was. But wine? Must of sold good.

Lynda smiled for the first time since White left. "Lucky me."

"Not when I come to you with all my _girly emotions _that I need to talk to someone about."

"Helps that you _don't_ have any _'girl emotions'_."

I grinned. "You wanna bet? After tonight... after what I went through over the last 24 hours... I want to get my life back on track."

Lynda narrowed her eyes. "You always said that you didn't want to live life to its fullest until you found Red. But I don't know, I think you've done _pretty okay_ from what I've seen. I mean, I _met you _in a night-club. Now, if that's not living life to its' fullest, what the hell is?"

I shook my head. "No, no; there's a lot I've wanted to do, but never could bring myself to do so."

"Hmmm?" Lynda urged me.

"Like, get counselling over Eric." My parents originally sent me to a counselor after what happened with Eric. But as if to spite them, I never 'opened up' to the counselor about what happened; never told him how I felt, never talked about the child that grew inside me. My parents never listened to me about Red, and now they wanted someone else to listen to me about what happened with Eric. I wasn't going to indulge them; making them worried was what I wanted most -especially as after what happened with Eric, _THEY STILL DIDN'T LISTEN TO ME ABOUT CHRISTINA!_

I let out a chuckle devoid of amusement at the irony.

In reply to my out-of-place chuckle, Lynda narrowed her eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You ain't thinking about seeing Campbell, are you?"

I rolled my eyes -more out of annoyance at Lynda's quite smart speculation. Despite it being false to why I actually chuckled, it did make sense that I would also probably chuckle in a similar matter if I _did _think about seeing Campbell.

"Lynda, that's _not _what I was chuckling about."

"Still, are you?"

I shook my head. "After you told me that Freud figured out that the bastard was relaying all our _juicy _personal conflicts back to ONI, no."

Lynda put her hand on her jaw, musing. "I wonder... Timmy, did you know about this?"

"The topic you wish to engage in is highly classified." Timmy's emotionless voice replied.

Lynda let out a sigh. "Why do I even bother? You know, even though FLEETCOM assigned us this damned AI, I bet he's frickin ONI."

My eyes widened at her words. I _never _even considered that Timmy was ONI. I mean, all his annoying attempts to uphold protocol and that was understandable for an AI of his personality. _But why the hell did he know so much about Intel that should had been classified to FLEETCOM_?!

I quickly regained my composure, leaving Lynda confused as hell. "You ain't-" I quickly shook my head for her to be quiet. It would be better if we spoke more about the possibility without Timmy watching us. The Monarch would be able to help as it already stated multiple times while in Slip-Space to Halo that if it wanted, it could pull Timmy apart bit-by-bit if it wanted to. Blinding Timmy from a single room so we could speak in privacy would be no problem for the highly advanced alien AI that had a nasty habit of pissing me off. Perhaps this was a chance for it to redeem itself, and actually be of a convenience other than just contradicting our efforts to get home.

But still, if Timmy was programmed by ONI, what the hell could happen? Could he override my orders when we arrive back at _Earth_? Take control of the _Kryptonite _and bloody lead us to an ONI orbital facility or something? Getting delivered to the hands of ONI before HIGHCOM or FLEETCOM would not be preferable. Parangosky was a dangerous person, and Timmy was not oblivious to my plans of crossing her. The thought of being in her tight grasp scared me. I couldn't allow that to happen; I couldn't allow her to stop me.

The Security Council had to know. And if they already did, if they allowed for Parangosky and ONI to do this... then no one would stop me from replacing Parangosky as the most dangerous person in the Universe.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 8 2547 [2249 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Recovery Room A-8, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>The day had been great!<p>

We found Sierra-098, got the Captain back, and found some possible allies that were apparently extremely effective against the Flood.

But then I had to tell Campbell that I was planning on killing all the crew-members he befriended.

He hated me the moment I mentioned my plan; I could see it in his eyes. And he refused to agree upon it; even if it meant his execution. So, to compromise, I agreed to not _actually _kill the crew but try to take them captive, and prevent unnecessary casualties.

It would be more risky for resistance, but others may assist us more willingly, and Hallas would feel much for comfortable about the whole thing, and the Monarch and the Diverted may actually be more cooperative.

Thinking back, I felt stupid to not have figured this out earlier. It was a much better plan that would have smaller risks, and actually spare people I _myself _called friends.

Now, since I had Campbell on-board, I got his advise on who to bring into the planned... _'mutiny'_

Fireteam Night, Hallas, Campbell, and Timmy were already on-board. And I made the conclusion that Alex Giles would likely join due to his hatred of Captain Jsarez, and his own personal greed to get far in the Navy. I hated Giles, but we needed him.

David Larson would also assist us due to him being 'ONI material' He would not put personal emotions in front of him. The Fireteam that was harassing Larson may also assist us due to their personality traits; they're runts who don't care about nothing. The ODST Fireteam that got into a fight with Sierra-098 would also prove useful. And perhaps Sierra-098 himself. Though, He seemed back to his pre-indoctrinated self which might prove troublesome. It would be worse if he decided to assist the Captain.

I didn't want to act because whether I wanted it to happen or not, people would die. Tomorrow, I would speak to Captain Jsarez and try to convince her to lean towards reason and logic.

These thoughts were eating me up, so I temporarily put them aside. And with my head clear, I could finally speak to Sierra-098 who was in recovery.

Sierra-098 was lying on in a cot, tied down in case the Gravemind took control. There were armed guards all in the room with Sentinels backing them up, and the Monarch and Monitor were hovering above the drowsy SPARTAN, observing him.

Sierra-08 seemed... _normal_. But I needed to judge that for myself.

"How're you feeling?" I asked him.

Sierra-098 turned to look at me. His green eyes were pale, and red. His pale skin had dark lines going across it, likely his veins reacting to the Gravemind's presence. Looking at him, I only now noticed how normal in appearance he seemed for someone of a group that many at ONI consider machines. He had shaven dark brown hair, a scar to the left of his mouth where a mole of his was removed, a scar going along his scalp and ending above his right eye. He was huge, standing at 7'0" and weighing 290 pounds. And that was just without his MJOLNIR Mark IV armor.

"Terrible." 098 replied.

"Let's start with the basics: Do you want to kill any of us?" I questioned him.

Sierra-098 looked me dead in the eyes. "Just you."

I didn't waver. "I had no involvement in the SPARTAN II Program, Sierra, so watch you tongue."

Sierra-098 smiled. "That's not why I want to kill you."

Was it possible that he knew? If so, then how? There was no way he could! But why else would he want to kill me? With so many questions running through my mind, it was hard to keep my composure. He was a SPARTAN with the physical and mental alterations from the Flood; if he wanted to kill me, nobody would be able to stop him.

"Why do you want to kill me?" I questioned him, being careful not to let panic show in my voice.

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" I replied, letting a bit of anger show in my voice.

"I can't say."

I was confused, but the Monitor thankfully elaborated for me. "The Gravemind's Spore has control of 94.16 percent on this Reclaimer's brain. This Reclaimer cannot say or do anything without the Gravemind's Spore's approval first."

That annoyed me. "Didn't you say that you _suppressed_ the Gravemind's control over him?!"

"We only prevented the Gravemind's Spore from taking physical and verbal control of this Reclaimer -save every minimum: 16, to maximum: 23 hours for the minimum of 5 minutes to the maximum of 17 minutes -approximately."

"So, he can't say or do anything unless the Gravemind lets him, but the Gravemind can only take control of Sierra-098 once per day for a couple of minutes?" I double checked.

"That's not my name." Sierra-098 coldly informed me.

The Monitor ignored him, and continued. "Affirmative, Reclaimer."

"Also," The Monarch added. "the Gravemind's Spore has the ability to anonymously access every source of intelligence and info currently stored in the Universe from whenever, and where-ever. The Gravemind's Spore also has the physiological ability to examine and see the thoughts, memories, and emotions of any individual of any species at anytime, and at any location -no know exceptions."

I couldn't keep myself from gaping. "_How_?!" I said in fear.

The Monarch replied. "Unbeknownst to us until now, the Gravemind has not only integrated itself with Forerunner technology, but technology of a species even older and much more advanced: The Precursors."

The Monitor broke in. "This doesn't add up to a logical conclusion as the activation of the Installations destroyed all architecture of Neural Physics in the radius of 25.000 Light Years from each Installation's location -effectively on a galactic scale. No Precursor artifact could had survived the activation; this artifact contradicts logic."

"As do the species you refer to as 'Hybrids'." The Monarch added.

"Are they connected?" I asked them.

Sierra-098 was one the to reply. Though, it wasn't him. "We lacked a unanimous establishment that merging all life forms together was a triumphal act."

What are you saying?" I questioned him. It seemed as if the Gravemind had chosen now to take control of him verbally.

"Even the Precursors had internal struggle." The Monarch observed, clarifying for me as well..

Red smiled. "Endeavoring to cease our proceedings, our brothers have dispensed us a true armament of anguish."

"The artifact was meant for you, Reclaimers." The Monarch clarified.

That made no sense; they said all of these 'Precursor' artifacts and Neural crap was destroyed when the Halos were activated. So how was this artifact here? "But how?" I asked the Monarch. "How can it be here if all Precursor artifacts were destroyed?"

The Monarch turned to face me. "Both the Hybrids and the artifact are not of this Universe."

This could be either really bad, or really good. Only time would tell.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

**The ending of this chapter may be confusing for people. Thankfully I made Rhine out to be just as confused which would provide an excuse for the Monitor and Monarch to elaborate for him. Still, you might not get it unless you've read the Forerunner Saga by Greg Bear. I myself haven't read the Saga as I initially felt that the Forerunners would be too complex for me. But I did pick up a lot on the Halo wikis which helped me understand, and I don't really seem the need to read the Saga. Perhaps I'll get around to it one-day.**

**I'm hoping to get around to bringing Vale back into the picture soon. But how long do you expect someone to be in a coma after being beaten to near death by a pack of Brutes?**


	30. A Typical Confrontation

[JZ-4232 (Designated: The Monarch): _16807, a potential situation requires our attention._

[16807 Fleighted Fire (Monitor of Installation 06): _Please elaborate._

[JZ-4232 (Designated: The Monarch): _The Reclaimer Ancilla -designated: Timmy- has repeatedly blinded my visual at various times over the past thirty-three hours and forty-three minutes in certain rooms within the Reclaimer ship, for no particular reason. This goes against orders from the Reclaimer Captain dictating that I was allowed access to all of the Reclaimer ship's systems. As per protocol, I have not interfered. Though I deem it necessary to inform the Reclaimer Captain. I have also proceeded to do further research, and have discovered the potential for inner conflict with the Reclaimers within their military structure -especially for the Reclaimer Captain due to personal turmoil with a Reclaimer secret organization group. What do you conclude the right route?_

[16807 Fleighted Fire (Monitor of Installation 06): _Protocol dictates action! First mandatory action is to bypass the Reclaimer Ancilla's unusual security grid whenever the Reclaimer Ancilla initiates one next. Second mandatory action is to record a visual on what the Reclaimer Ancilla is attempting to conceal within these designated rooms. Third mandatory action is to analyze the recording and establish a verdict on the Reclaimer Ancilla's activity. Forth mandatory action is to relinquish the recording to the Reclaimer Captain. Compliance is mandatory -will you comply?_

[JZ-4232 (Designated: The Monarch): I will comply. I await the time where I can act on the first mandatory action.

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 9, 2547 [0947 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Brig, Installation 06.**

**Courtney Jsarez...**

* * *

><p>The big bastard standing before me was the leader.<p>

The brig was full of at least a hundred of the towering creatures, all clustered up. There were females, children, and males, and according to the Monitor, this was the extent of what there was of them on Halo. How they survived this long was a question too complicated for me to even try figuring out.

Out of all the creatures, this one was the most armored with Forerunner like metal covering its torso, knees, thighs, and shoulders with what I considered leather covering everything else with straps, belts, and buckles holding it all together. How the hell these creatures managed to harvest Forerunner metals was yet another question I decided to not ask.

This one also had warpaint on its' face, but not just any warpaint; the Monarch stated it signified its' status as the 'clan leader'.

On its' back was some type of spear being supported on its' back by a belt that ran across its' back, coming around its' torso where it connected up to the belt around its' waist. Its' tail also had armor, and there was an energy blade similar to that the Elite's used tired onto the edge of its' feline like tail. It also had finger guards on its' fingers which I found odd as a race this primitive surely wouldn't have been able to manipulate metal to that flexibility.

Its' head was the only part of it that held no armor, but there were small bits of metal sewn into its' skin around its' eyes. How they managed to achieve that was another question I decided too complicated to ask. But it must have hurt, and was also likely a dangerous operation. But it looked fairly nice and decorative -which again went against the races' apparent primitive nature.

Also, there was a small glimmer of light from were the creature's lenses were. The creatures only received the lenses earlier in the morning when the Engineer (ONI's official named for the Huragoks) finished making up enough for the more important members of the species.

According to Fleighted Fire, this one standing before me was named T'rakas. The 'T' at the beginning of its' name signified its' status as clan leader. Its' two sons were named J'Kraivas, and J'Vetlas. The 'J' apparently their status as the sons of the clan leader, while the 'as' at the end of their name signified the family they belonged to. The culture was easy to get your head around if you tried. But I wasn't attempting to learn their culture -save one.

The translating software the Engineer finished for the Hybrid's attracted the attention of an armory assistant -an odd-looking man by the name of David Larson. I didn't know much about him as his file seemed... _off_. But apparently he enjoyed talks related to culture, and got along alright with some of the more friendly members of the Diverted. I figured he might had been an asset if the Diverted got out of control for some reason in the future.

"Who created you?" I asked T'rakas. The Monitor and Monarch were in universal agreement that these creatures were created by the apparent Gods of the Universe -the Precursors. And their goal was to assist us. This all came from Red during one of his 'possessed sequences' -as I liked to call it- so the truth of it couldn't be validated. But according to the Gravemind, the Flood were created by the molecular dust of the Precursors that was actually meant to reform back into the Precursor's original form. Even the Gods of the Universe fucked up. But instead of trying to fix the fuck up, they embraced it, and decided that the Flood were a way to unite every living thing in the Universe into one single torturous mass with no free will.

Now, why would the creators of our Universe want such a fate for their creations? This was the part that pissed me off. Apparently the Forerunners went all genocidal against the more highly advanced race, and nearly completely wiped them out. The Precursors were, or course, pissed about this, and decided that this was punishment for the Forerunner's insolence, and that this would prevent any of their creations from rising up against them again.

When I heard this earlier in the morning, I screamed my head off at both the Fleighted Fire and the Monarch for their master's stupidity. Eventually, I managed to calm down, and became interested in what this Precursor artifact the Gravemind had integrated itself with was, and what these Hybrids were. From what we managed to get out of the Gravemind, it was possible that some of the Precursors didn't agree with the Flood. But the Gravemind decided to leave the full explanation on the Hybrids and the artifact to last, and unfortunately due to this, it didn't have enough time to explain about these two things as it finally lost the strength to maintain control over Red, and Red became conscious again. That reminded me: I wanted to speak to Red after this.

"Those who created you." T'rakas replied, the translation software making subtitles appear across my own lenses which translated its' language into English.

"And they are?" I questioned it, not accepting beating around the bush as an answer.

"The Precursors." That was better.

"Why?"

The creature twitched its' reptile-like jaw a bit. "To fight the Flood."

"But didn't the Precursors create the Flood? Didn't they want the Flood to consume all life?"

"Yes. Though not all agreed with this cause of action, believing it barbaric, and contradicting to their primary nature."

I began rubbing my jaw. "So why act so late to create you?"

"Acting sooner would be too obvious; there were already those who suspected opposition."

Slowly the puzzle was becoming unraveled. "How did you end up this Halo? How many more of you are out there?"

"We are all that exist. Both we and the Inspectoris Omnium were created in an instance via the manipulation of Atoms on this ring."

Fleighted Fire broke in. "Reclaimer, the day they arrived, a severe blast of an unidentified pulse ran across this installation. It is 87.6 percent possible that both the Unknown Species -designated by the Reclaimers as 'Hybrids'- and this blast are connected."

I turned to face Fleighted Fire. "Do the Precursors have to be close to do something like that?"

"Yes, Reclaimer." Fleighted Fire confirmed.

"And you couldn't pick it up or anything? I mean, I thought these things were _huge_."

"The exact size of a Precursor is unknown, Reclaimer. As per how I did not know of one or mores' presence: The radius required for them to manipulate the Atoms on this installation is larger than the installation's scan-grid range -for a more comprehensive explanation: The Precursors had to be close to manipulate Atoms on this installation, but not close enough that this installation's scan-grid could detect it."

"So, they just zipped into this system, created a species and an all-powerful artifact and zipped out?" I questioned Fleighted Fire, allowing anger into my voice.

"It is highly possible Reclaimer. But knowledge of the Precursors and their abilities is not within my function -what I have recently told you is what I have learned from the Monarch about the Precursors."

I turned back around to face T'rakas. "Alright, how about this: Why is the Monitor only _now _aware of this... Latin thingy?" I questioned T'rakas.

T'rakas twitched its' head and spines in confusion.

"Why am I only now aware of the Inspectoris Omnium? I had no previous knowledge of it until the surgery preformed on the infected Reclaimer." Fleighted Fire translated.

"The clan leader always maintained possession of it. The previous clan leader -my sire- was killed by the Flood recently when they attacked one of our outposts he was present at. The Flood then took the Inspectoris Omnium for their own use."

I was starting to get pissed. This was highly avoidable. "_Why_ was your dad at this outpost?"

"To encourage the warriors preparing to defend our kin against the Flood."

"Wait-" Lynda -who was accompanying me- interrupted. "You said that the clan leader always had possession of this... _Inspector Onimus_, so were your race always tribal in nature? You weren't ever less primitive?"

"We maintain the same intellect and society as we did at the dawn of our kin." T'rakas replied.

Now I was really pissed. "Then _why the hell _didn't you contact the Monitor earlier, and explain all of this to it?"

"We were told to await contact with the Reclaimers arrival on this Halo."

I rolled my eyes. "How could you be so sure that we would arrive at _this _Halo before the Flood broke out or something?"

"The interference along the Monarch's teleportation network was to redirect it to this Installation when it attempted to teleport to another Installation." T'rakas explained.

"That was _you_?!" I exclaimed.

"No. This was the work of the Precursors." T'rakas corrected.

"Either way, 'Lodam's gonna be pissed." Lynda growled.

I could hardly contain my anger. If the Precursors didn't create that interference, the Monarch and the Diverted would've arrived at Installation 02, got the damn Forerunner ship, arrived back to their own fleet, and expose the truth which would have ended the war. so, who were the bigger assholes? The Precursors, or the Forerunners? I didn't realize 'till then how much I hated how the Universe worked.

"We're all pissed." I replied to Lynda.

"Still, I ain't gonna be the one to break it to him." Lynda replied.

"Do you have anymore questions?" T'rakas asked.

Oh, I had many. But there was only one more that needed answering at the moment. "What's your objective now?"

"To fight the Flood. Though, the Monitor of this installation has assured us that the battle against the Flood on this installation is almost at an end -hence why we agreed to leave this installation."

"Well, since there's no Flood to fight, now what?"

"We serve the Reclaimers until we encounter the Flood again." T'rakas replied.

"More allies," I mused. "Sounds good to me."

"Captain," Timmy said over the intercom. "The Monitor's scan of us with the Seer is completed."

"Oh, I was just about to mention this." Fleighted Fire happily announced.

"So, are we clean?"

"Yes. There is the Gravemind's Spore inside the infected Reclaimer's head, but the Spore cannot spread anymore Spores, nor can it shift from host. I will allow you to leave this installation with the infected Reclaimer only if the Monarch takes one thousand Sentinels and ten Enforcers back to Erde-Tyrene with you all -to suppress the infected Reclaimer in case he goes rampant. Any exceptions are unacceptable." Fleighted Fire explained.

"Sounds good." I agreed.

"Excellent. Now, I will need to continue to scan your ship within hourly intervals, and run any Reclaimer that has left this ship and returned through quarantine."

I quickly interjected. "That shouldn't be necessary; I don't see any reason to send my soldiers our there."

"Excellent." Fleighted Fire replied.

"Timmy, relay this info to the crew, please." I told Timmy, being cautious to be polite.

"Affirmative, ma'am." Timmy complied.

The sound of Timmy relaying the good news sounded off over every intercom -even the one in the Brig. Ignoring the AI's loud voice, I turned back to face T'rakas who was surprisingly still standing where he had stood for the past ten minutes. "So, your people gonna be okay staying down here? No offence, I just don't think it's a good idea to have you walking around the ship in case you spook the crew."

"We shall remain here until ordered otherwise by the Reclaimers." T'rakas replied.

"Good," I nodded. "I may have some more questions for you later. But at the moment I have too many, and I need to sort through them and figure out which ones are more important."

"That is not required for I shall answer whatever questions you have -no matter the time constraint."

"Thanks, but no. I have more pressing matters to attend to then ask questions all day."

"So be it. I shall take my leave." The Hybrid nodded in respect and I returned the nod with it turning around and making it- his way back towards his sons who were standing guard by the entrance to one of the cells. I had no idea what they were watching our exchange over.

Ignoring it, I turned to begin making my way out of the Brig when I noticed Larson was also leaving. "I thought you wanted to get to know these creatures?" I asked him.

Larson turned his head to face me. "Like you, I have too many questions. And I think it better I finish learning about Sangheili culture before moving on."

I nodded in understanding with Larson turning his head back around and continuing on ahead of us.

"He's an odd one." Lynda observed, coming up to my side.

"Yeah..." I agreed. "_'Sangheili'_?"

"I think he's a little too close to them as well." Lynda remarked.

I let out a chuckle. "It's him being close that's an asset to us."

"Ahhhh." Lynda said as she finally got it before continuing ahead of me.

Thinking about what just transpired with the Hybrid leader, I continued after Lynda. But as soon as I exited the Brig, I saw Lynda engaged in conversation with Lieutenant Rhine Dorhan just outside. I was beginning to wonder when he would come to see me.

"You ain't getting past me to see her. If she wants to see you, she'll say so when she gets up here." Lynda told Dorhan. I was touched about her commitment to protecting me further from ONI.

Dorhan saw me, and called out to me. "Captain, could you tell the Lieutenant Colonel to stand down."

Lynda turned to look at me, narrowing her eyes in question. She had just as good reason to hate ONI as I did. After all, Red was her family as well. I didn't care if Dorhan knew about the SPARTAN II Program or not, he was still ONI. I nodded for Lynda to act on whatever she was planning.

And she did act, springing around to land a punch into Dorhan's face, sending him stumbling back where he grabbed a rail to support himself. Lynda didn't stop there, though, grabbing Dorhan by the collar and leaning him against the railing.

"_Don't act like you're in charge_," Lynda snapped at Dorhan. "One word from her, and you're _out_ the Airlock."

I smiled as I began to approach.

"Stand down, Keyes!" Dorhan ordered Lynda.

Lynda landed another punch into his gut. "Again, you _ain't_ in charge."

"Lieutenant Colonel Keyes," Timmy's voice appeared over the corridor's intercoms. "You are breaking multiple protocols; unhand Lieutenant Dorhan before the report I'm currently filing on you gets much worse than it needs to be."

"_Fuck 'em!_" Lynda screamed, tears bursting from her eyes. "Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it."

I was about to rush over to Lynda when I heard a voice. "What is going on here? Can I be of assistance?" I turned to see Larson standing there. I didn't even wonder why I didn't see him when I exited the Brig; he must have went down the left corridor upon exiting -not the right as Lynda did to stumble upon Dorhan.

"Thank you, but just continue down the corridor, Gunny," I told him. "This is between us."

"I was actually asking Lieutenant Dorhan." Larson replied.

"Gunnery Sergeant, they're physically assaulting me. Make them stand down." Dorhan ordered Larson

I at first expected Larson to turn around and go away as any loyal crew-member of mine would. But instead, Larson came forward. "Lieutenant Colonel, I ask that you release Lieutenant Dorhan immediately."

"ONI has _no_ jurisdiction here anymore," Lynda told him. "You're to ignore whatever he orders."

"Forget it, Lynda; he's ONI himself." I stated. It made sense; his odd behavior, his even odder file. How many on my ship were ONI agents?

"I advise that everyone calm down -stress levels and heart rate are increasing." Timmy warned us.

Larson kept coming, and both me and Lynda drew out Magnums and aimed them at him. "_Stand down!_" I ordered him.

"Lieutenant Colonel Keyes, release Lieutenant Dorhan."

"No, _no_, _no_," Dorhan began panicking. "Gunnery Sergeant, stand down, _now_ -_that's an order_!"

And just like that, Larson halted. I still kept my Magnum trained on him, though.

"Listen, I just wanted to talk," Dorhan told us. "And for the record: I had no idea about Section Three's operations until a few weeks ago. And treating me like I'm responsible is like treating any worker for ONI like they're responsible. Use your heads; I might as well beat up your entire crew because their COs attacked me; that's what you're acting like!."

I lowered and holstered my Magnum and turned and made my way towards Dorhan who was still being held up by Lynda, Magnum now at his head. "The reason you were beaten was because of your arrogance in thinking ONI still has some type of control on _my _ship."

"We still do, and will continue to until the end of this mission." Dorhan replied.

I stopped just behind Lynda. "Lynda, pass me your Magnum and watch Larson."

Lynda passed me her Magnum. I grabbed it before aiming it at Dorhan's forehead. Lynda's confusion quickly disappeared, and she immediately turned her head to watch Larson. I wasn't panning on shooting Dorhan, I just wanted eyes on Larson.

"Captain, Lieutenant Colonel, I advise you to stand down immediately."

Ignoring Timmy, I looked Dorhan dead in the eyes. "The mission that this ship was assigned when we first left _Quaint _is a _very _different one from the mission that is now. That mission being getting back to Earth, and going straight to the nearest FLEETCOM or HIGHCOM facility -not ONI as initially designated."

"Breaking mission parameters is a dangerous offence." Dorhan warned me.

"It's even more dangerous to fall into the hands of Parangosky with an AI and an ONI agent that have some nasty things to say about me."

"Cease now, and I _swear _you safety from Parangosky -she can be forgivable, and she hates the SPARTAN II Program as much as anyone out there."

I scoffed. "I don't give a shit. When we get back to _Earth_, I'm bringing ONI down to the ground with you, Parangosky and whoever else that was involved with the SPARTAN II Program."

"Listen to me, Captain," Dorhan began panicking. "There's this guy called doctor Elias Carter who predicted that the Insurrection would rip Human society apart. Top scientists at ONI further expanded on this, and concluded that Human civilization _itself _could be destroyed by the Insurrection. Now, the war ain't on halt for the Covenant; we have Insurrectionists and Covenant at every front; do you _really_ _think_ having the entire civilian population rising up is a _good _idea? exposing the SPARTAN II Program will _guarantee _Humanity's downfall."

Thinking about it, he was right. But then again, I had already thought about it, and already came to a conclusion. "I ain't planning on exposing ONI."

"Thank you-"

I pressed the Magnum further against his forehead to make him shut up. "The Monarch has filled me in with _a lot _of juicy details about the SPARTAN II Program; I know _everything_. But do not think for a second that I find the thing justified -_oh no_, it's even more disgusting that you would kidnap kids because of their _'ignorance' _and _'genes' _There were plenty of other courses of action to take to stop the Insurrection, and you chose the _cheapest one_."

I pressed the Magnum right into Dorhan's head, making him sweat as I continued. "I ain't gonna expose ONI. But I am gonna shove a stick covered in barbed wire up the wriggly old cunt of Parangosky, _personally _desex this Halsey whore before filling her with every biological chemical out there, beat this Mendez to death with _worst_ tactics than the barbaric ones he used on my brother and the seventy-four other six-year-olds. Along with these assholes, I'll kill every other son of a bitch that participated in torturing my brother and those kids out of their minds and into cold, heartless machines."

"We need these people!" Dorhan protested.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to act after the war with the Covenant is over." I grinned.

"Even after the war, we'll still need ONI."

"No, we won't." I released Dorhan, pushing him away.

Dorhan was about to continue down the corridor -defeated- when he turned to face me. "Humanity would be gone without the SPARTANs." He told me.

What was the moral there? Could I just accept that if my brother hadn't been kidnapped that Humanity would be doomed? How could I? No, I wouldn't think about what could have happened. This is what did happen, and I would kill those who made it happen.

"I don't care." I replied.

Dorhan took that answer, and turned back around where he limped back down the hall with Larson hurrying after him.

"Thank you for complying, and letting Lieutenant Dorhan go." Timmy thanked us.

I had had enough of the stupid AI. "_SHUT UP YOU TRAITOROUS ONI PIECE OF MACHINERY!_" I screamed, almost falling over to have Lynda catch me.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Lynda reassured me as I tried to hold the tears in.

Unlike what Dorhan likely thought, I wasn't oblivious. "Lynda, I need to see the Monarch."

* * *

><p><span><strong>November 9, 2547 [0959 Hours] Human Military Calendar.<strong>

**UNSC Kryptonite, Corridor D-08, Installation 06.**

**Rhine Dorhan...**

* * *

><p>Upon fully analyzing the current situation and their play outs, I had concluded what needed to be done.<p>

I was a stupid moron. Not 24 hours ago, I had been planning on killing almost _everyone _on this ship _without even considering _the alternative solutions. I guessed this could have been caused by my inexperience with how ONI _really _works. A couple of weeks ago, I found out about pretty much every secret ONI had due to my new operational roll. When I did, all types of theories came to mind.

So when the Captain of the ship I was on found out about the SPARTAN II Program, I instantly thought that the Captain would try and expose ONI, and that the 'evil' ONI would want her and any crew members that supported her executed, and that even if I took them alive, they would still be executed. This was only furthered by my unfortunate encounter with Margaret Parangosky where I saw firsthand that the reports of her brutality were underrated.

I felt like I was submitting the crew to a terrible fate by agreeing to take them captive over killing them to gain Campbell Joyce's support. Dwelling on this, and musing out loud while in my quarters drew the attention of Timmy, who reassured me that Parangosky hated the SPARTAN II Program as much as any reasonable person would, and that she would not even consider executing the crew, and that I may in turn be executed if I executed them.

ONI were evil assholes, but they had a heart. Had I known that, Hallas might had slept better at night. When I told him that I was an idiot, he began treating me like an idiot more than I personally thought I deserved.

But I hoped that in the end, I wouldn't have had to try to capture the crew, that Captain Jsarez would listen to reason. To me, it seemed like she was deranged. So, I still had to imprison the crew, and have Timmy manually pilot the _Kryptonite _back to _Earth_.

But why couldn't I just let Captain Jsarez take us back to Earth as she was planning on doing? I had asked myself this question over and over again, and I worked out the answer.

During one of the meetings the COs, Diverted, and AIs had when Captain Jsarez was in her 'State of Pain' The Monarch pointed out that if I deemed it necessary, I could lawfully take control of the ship myself. I said that there was no reason fro me to do so as it seemed unnecessary, and doing so may have raised questions. Now, I can't do it as the Captain would refuse, and her crew would gladly back her up.

On top of breaking this protocol, the Captain also planned on taking the ship straight to FLEETCOM. I wasn't informed about how many people knew about the SPARTAN II Program, but I had an idea that the officials at FLEETCOM had no idea, and letting Captain Jsarez tell them would, again, breach protocol. It was also breaching the mission parameters itself for her to take the ship and all the valuable intelligence we have to FLEETCOM and not straight to ONI. Again, I was in my rights to remove her from command.

Both the Monitor and Monarch would surely understand this, and would certainly assist me as it follows Human military regulations and protocol -so the AIs helping us was not a problem.

I still had no idea how this was all going to play out, though. For now, we needed more people. Now, I realized I didn't have to just approach people wanting credits, but people who would put loyalty to the UNSC above their loyalty for their Captain.

That was the current focus: To get more allies. Taking over the ship itself would be easy with the joint efforts of Timmy, the Monarch, and the Monitor. But detaining those who resisted was another thing. The Sentinels and Enforcers could help, but every crew member knew that they wouldn't attack as it goes against the Monitor and the Monarch's protocols to harm a Human, so the crew would have no problem with resisting the Sentinels and Enforcers.

Plus, there was the Diverted. I knew that getting caught up in a Human mutiny was the last thing they would want, and so we needed men to keep an eye on them, and to be able to keep them in a secure location. David Larson could help as he was the only crew member whose close presence to the Diverted could be justified.

The the train of thought sent my already sore head spinning. The Captain pressed the Magnum into my forehead harder than she realized. That, or she wanted to leave me with a pounding headache. I personally thought the latter was more truth-likely.

And it _was_ pounding. It was so bad that I needed Larson's support with making my way through the corridors to my quarters, the eyes of confused crew members on us, but not raising a word, likely knowing what happened.

There was one ODST who rushed to check up on me. Albeit, he was not someone I wanted close to me.

"You okay, sir?" Toless Morgan placed a hand on my shoulder.

Shrugging his hand off, I replied with: "Why do you care?"

"What's that attitude for?" Morgan asked in a confused tone, backing away from me.

Was this guy ignorant? Couldn't he figure out that I had it out against him? I raised my head to look at him, seeing his worst feature: His face. A face that made him look normal and friendly; was that how he did it? "What do you think?" I snapped at him.

"Did I do- oh, you must mean... I... I had no idea you would let my conviction get in the way of a cooperation."

His ignorance was driving me nuts; I couldn't take another moment of it. "You kidnapped, raped, murdered, and ate young models!" I snapped at him. We didn't need to watch out words as there was no one in the corridor we were in, and Timmy would warn us if someone was coming.

Suddenly, Morgan's face went from calm and emotionless to pure rage. "_Don't _remind me! I think about what I did every _moment_ of every _DAY_!"

I shrugged Larson aside and quickly approached Toless, placing my hands on his shirts' collar, grabbing him and bringing him close to me where I looked into his eyes. "Don't yell at me!"

Larson placed his hand on my shoulder, bringing me back. "Second Lieutenant, I recommend you continue down the corridor, and do not approach the Lieutenant on any future occasions."

Morgan nodded before going down the way me and Larson came from, as if this never just happened.

I let out a sigh. There were three members of Fireteam Night that were all vying for their spot on my most fucked up person alive list. There was Theodore Douglas who murdered dozens on a serial killing run he went on in the town named _Tenstal _on _Unias_ after planning and arming for it for months. He only a single motive: To make those who made him suffer all his childhood suffer in turn. This made no sense as his murders weren't selective, but random.

There was Toless Morgan who I personally hated due to his murder of Judy Walker who I grew up watching. We were both the same age, so it was like growing up alongside her. I watched every single one of her movies, and loved them all. And when I heard about her body -or what remained of it- being discovered after the stressful week it was for me after hearing that she went missing, I broke down as if I lost a family member.

Then there was Ivan Roras who molested over 200 girls between the age of 2 to 16. Every time I heard his name, the face of my own 4 year-old daughter came to my mind.

Madison... She had short black hair like me, and people often mistook her for a boy. She was short and thin for a kid her age, and had her mother's pearl blue eyes and smile. That smile... I would give up everything to see her smile again.

I often saw Roras on top of her... and I couldn't handle it. It made no sense! Adam Franti was very intolerable -he even showed his intolerance of Roras by verbally abusing him. So why the hell was he looking out for him?

Fireteam Night consisted of more devils than the entire Covenant Empire could even aspire to hold. Rapers, murderers, assassins; they were all here, and I had to work with them.

After Morgan had disappeared around a corner, I turned back to face Larson. "Thanks. For someone so anti-social, you have a way with convincing people."

"I doubt my words would make Captain Jsarez reconsider."

I let out a loud laugh, sending my head into another wave of pain. "That's actually _not_ what I was thinking." I had to give it to him, he was smart. Though, as good as the idea may had been, I doubted that anyone else could make the Captain reconsider -especially since she already planned on returning them all safely to _Earth_, so in their minds, there would be no reason to.

"Sorry." Larson apologized.

"It's fine, Con. Now, Doctor Day is likely already at my quarters, so we should hurry. Hmmm... perhaps we can save time if you just carry me."

It was a stupid joke that I didn't even try to make. Yet, Larson nodded before immediately approaching me.

He wasn't joking, he would _really _pick me up. I could be an idiot at times. "Shit, I was joking, Con; don't, seriously!" I put my hands in front of me to stop him.

He stopped, and no smile appeared to show that he _was _joking. "Jeeze," I shook my head. "You can't do that; you'll bloody kill yourself."

"I understand, sir. Though your physical capacity should allow me to carry you if required."

"Glad to know I've kept fit." I muttered.

"Your physic is fine. Though, I would like to recommend some diets that have helped me, and are recommended if you desire to live a long life." Larson pulled out his Data-pad where he began looking for the suppose diets.

I smiled. Clones were always so helpful.


	31. The Beginning of Two Battles

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Okay, a few people have been voicing their confusion towards the timeline. As you may know, I often than not skip around in the timeline a lot from the events on Halo, back to the present. There's the location, date, and time at the beginning of each POV, but I know that it may be tricky for some people to understand what's happening, and some people may skip reading it altogether -which I understand.  
>To make things easier, I'm gonna add something I like to call "The Timeline Function"<p>

This will simply just put a small detailing above the time, date, and location telling the viewer which Timeline the segment is focusing on.

So when you see **Installation 06 Timeline** the segment will be based around the events on Halo in the year 2547, and when you see **Present Timeline** the segment will be based around the present timeline of 2555. I hope this makes people more aware of what's happening, and I'll be sure to exempt the whole flashback narrative for any future stories I do.

**[URGENT!]**

I've just discovered a MASSIVE plothole that a lot of you probably didn't notice.

According to what I've written, Courtney was raped on _Harvest_ at the age of 16. This is a problem since she (Along with Red and the other SPARTAN II children) were born in 2511. And the Covenant glassed Harvest in 2525. So, she would had to have actually been 13 if she was raped on _Harvest_. I'm not gonna change this; Courtney was raped at the age of 16. But I will do a lot of reconning. BUT, I don't know how many times I've mentioned the whole messed up timeline, so it would take forever for me to go back and correct it all (I actually just did go back and correct a lot, but there's still likely a few contradictions) So, I hope to God you guys are reading this so you can see the changes I've made.

First: Christina (Courtney's bitch teacher) never knew Red and never made suggestive incest comments because she's a crazy bitch. Christina was also a teacher at the school Courtney went to on _Arcadia _not _Harvest_. On top of that, Courtney and her family didn't get the final push to leave _Harvest_ after Christina was fired, and left _Harvest_ in 2522 when Red's clone died. Courtney was also raped on _Arcadia_, not _Harvest_. Christina still made bizarre suggestions that Courtney wasn't raped, and that she was actually a slut (Her words, not mine) Christina was still fired, though, and Courtney still hit her mum across the face twice out of anger for her mum not listening to her about Christina. Christina eventually left Arcadia where she moved to _Earth _to live out the rest of her life until she died of natural causes, and left her family that crazy note that I'm still trying to figure out how she wrote.

Here's the timeline.

**August 6th, 2511:** Red and Nai were both born on _Harvest_.

**Between August and September 23rd, 2517:** Red is kidnapped by ONI, and replaced with a flashclone. Courtney and Red are 6 at the time.

**2522:** Red's flash clone dies, and Courtney and her family leave _Harvest _for _Arcadia _shortly after. Courtney is 11 at the time.

**2523:** Courtney begins being harassed by Christina at her school on _Arcadia_. Courtney is 12 at the time.

**2527:** Courtney is raped by Eric at her house on _Arcadia_. She is 16 at the time. Not long after, she has an abortion. Eric is also arrested and shipped off planet.

**2528:** Christina is fired from her job as a principle at Courtney's school, and Courtney and her mother have a massive fallout (Explained more later on in the story) Courtney is 17 at the time. Christina then leaves _Harvest _not long later.

**2530:** Courtney enlists into the UNSC Navy. She is 19 at the time.

**2531:** The Covenant attacked _Arcadia_. Courtney is 20 at the time. Courtney and her family then arrive at _Earth _where Courtney met Lynda Keyes.

That should sum it up. I've corrected some of the stuff, but I'm not sure I got it all. Hopefully this helps. Though I must say, even if you guys didn't see this, I messed up real bad. Thankfully I'm still following the logic from my character which in turn is likely my own logic, but, meh; who cares?

* * *

><p><em>I used to ask myself: "How do I move on from this?"<em>

_I wouldn't accept counselling out of my own stupid desire for revenge, and I wouldn't talk to my parents or friends about it. So I was stuck with it myself for all those years._

_The first step from moving on was to stop my constant aggression._

_I used to scream at my parents uncontrollably. I couldn't help it; it just happened. They would ask me the most mundane of tasks which I would refuse out of a rebellious attitude that came out of being raped, and they began telling me that I didn't have a choice, and I began screaming and swearing at them._

_They would scream and swear back at me._

_I didn't like what was happening, so I researched why I was constantly angry, and found that it was normal after what I went through. But didn't my parents know that? I was raped; I had the right to be angry all the time even if I wasn't angry because my mental state forced me too._

_For a long time I hated my parents for not understanding. But perhaps they did understand, and they too couldn't cope with what happened._

_Eventually, I managed to regain my composure, and started calming down. But this didn't fully succeed until step two happened._

_The next step was to start leaving my room._

_After what happened, I had never left my room except to go to the bathroom, and to get my food, and go to school -I didn't go to school for almost a month after what happened, and Christina didn't help. I never left the house, and never talked to my friends -at home or at school. My parents didn't bother to change this which supported my theory that they did understand what I was going through, but just couldn't cope._

_I started off by leaving my room more often, eating dinner at the table with my family, and watching TV in the living room. Shortly after, I stopped retreating to my room when someone came over, and I began talking with my parents friends who commonly came over._

_After that, I started inviting my friends over who helped me control my sudden mood swings._

_Sadly, it still took me years before I could even stay at home by myself, walk around school by myself, and walk around the city I lived in by myself. But when I did, I took firearm lessons and kept a Personal Defense Weapon on me at all times._

_I owed it to that Japanese family that also supported me and helped me._

_The third step was to talk about what happened. Thankfully, Lynda was around when this step came into the picture._

_Lynda helped me a lot; suggesting counselors and rehab. But I refused it all as I couldn't speak about what happened to anyone who I didn't trust, and Lynda was the only person I trusted._

_With Lynda's help, I began to think I could trust a male again, and actually have a close relationship with one. But I would never let a male touch me again._

_The fourth step was to enjoy pleasure again._

_Prior to Eric's rape of me, I masturbated a lot. Afterward_

_s, I couldn't bring myself to touch myself down there. I owed it to Lynda here who also helped me, and I finally accepted a form of sex therapy from a female sex therapist that she recommended._

_I could never recover from what happened, but I could sure as hell try._

_I used to ask myself: "How do I move on from this?" I now had my answer: One step at a time._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Installation 06 Timeline.<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547 [1014 Hours] Human Military Calendar]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, On-Route to Recovery Room A-8, Installation 06]**

**[POV]****-****[Courtney Jsarez]**

* * *

><p>I felt like screaming in frustration.<p>

The Monarch could be anywhere on the _Kryptonite_, and the only way to find him was via Timmy. But Timmy had it in his head that I was planning on using the Monarch to take over the systems from him.

I knew I would come to regret screaming at him earlier.

I hurried down the corridor, slamming my feet onto the grated ground as I almost ran, Lynda was right behind me, trying to keep up.

From what I heard, the Inspectoris Omnium thingy -that was connected to the Gravemind who was in turn connected to Red- allowed the Gravemind to access every bit of information in the Universe, and even read the minds of anyone, anywhere. So, the way I saw it, if Timmy wasn't going to help me, Red would.

I felt ashamed The reason I was about to see my _true _brother for the first time in 30 years was not to rekindle with him. Wait, no, I would rekindle with him first before I ask him questions -I deserved that much, right? What could go wrong with the more pressing matters waiting at least half an hour?

A few more minutes and we arrived at the recovery room Red was resting in. After typing in the rooms' pass-code onto the control-pad, the door opened up to show Red tied down in a cot, looking up to the ceiling with several fully armed Marines hand-picked by Lynda surrounding him. Standing by his cot was Doctor Hallas Day, datapad in his hands.

I wasn't surprised to see Day questioning Red when I walked in, but I was angry. Day may had been a nice person, but he was an ONI scientist, so he no doubt knew about the SPARTAN-II Program, and for that he would suffer.

Looking up from his datapad, a smile appeared on Day's face. "Captain, finally come to see him?" I cocked his head towards the door. "Did you want me to leave?"

I let the anger appear on my face with Day narrowing his eyes in confusion. "Yes, get out!" I snapped as I pointed my hand at the door. "And if you go near my brother again, I'll have your brains blown across the damn floor."

A satisfying amount of fear shone in Day's eyes as he hurried out of the room.

"Lynda, take your boys and leave us." I ordered Lynda, waving my hand to dismiss her.

"Okay, ma'am, but both the alien orbs warned that he can act unpredictably."

I turned away from facing Red -who hadn't turned his head to face me- to face Lynda. "The Gravemind won't harm me, 'cause if I'm killed, both he and Red will be executed immediately."

Lynda nodded in acknowledgement before waving for the Marines to follow her out. I waited for all of them to leave before turning to face Red who was still acting as if I was not there.

I wanted to run up and hug him, but I couldn't; I couldn't risk him lashing out if the Gravemind had control over him. Although, according to both the Monarch and Fleighted Fire, the Gravemind could only take control of Red for a few minutes once a day -exceptions could happen, but were rare. If there wasn't an exception, Red shouldn't had been in control and wouldn't be anytime soon as the Gravemind took control of him late last night.

"Red..." I finally muttered. That wasn't the word that I wanted to leave my mouth, though. I wanted to show more composure, to make him be the first one to open up. Red was always first, it was a rule between us.

Red still didn't turn to face me. This was growing stressful; were they wrong? Is this still not Red? "_Look at me_." I said more coldly than I should, and with too much hidden emotion. It was only then that I noticed my hands hurt from my fingers twitching so uncontrollably, and that the pain was spreading up into my arms.

Finally, he turned to face me. His green eyes were red, and his veins were visible due to their blackness; a bandage covered his head from the surgery. "You _are _mad at me."

Realization came to me. He wasn't refusing to face me out of him not being Red, or being under the Gravemind's control, but because he was ashamed; he was guilty over the years he wasn't there for me when I needed him. When I was in my 'state of pain' I hated Red. I hated him for putting me through the pain I was in. But this wasn't me, it was a side of me that wasn't _really _me, and that side was now gone. But even when I falsely hated Red, and wished him dead during those horrific hours, _never did I hate him for not being there when I needed him_.

Tears swelled up into my eyes, and I knelt to the ground as my strength left me. "No, no, Red, I don't _hate _you, and I'm sorry for sounding like I did; I really am."

"You should," Red told me, his voice croaky as if he was about to burst out crying. "It's stupid of you not to hate me after... after everything you went through. Christina, Eric, I promised I'd always protect you, and I-... I-..." Red's voice broke. "_I-... I couldn't ke-... keep that promise... I-... I COULDN'T PROTECT YOU!_"

I used every ounce of my strength to rise from my knees. It seemed like the hardest thing I had ever done, but I was kidding myself to think that. Once I had risen, my strength returned to me, and I sprinted over to Red's cot, swinging my arms around his tied down body before burying my face into his chest.

"Don't _ever _blame yourself for what happened... _ever_!" I cried. It was weak of him to blame himself for what happened, but I quickly reminded myself that he had the emotional mental state of a child.

"I've missed you _so _much!" I continued to cry, feeling Red's hands caress my back.

"I-... didn't miss you," He replied in his teary voice, and I was about to jump off of him when he held me down and continued. "I-... wasn't there to miss yo... you, Nai... I wasn't there to _protect_ you... and... and I wasn't... I wasn't there to even _wish _that I could protect you."

"You're here now." I reminded him, trying to compose myself but failing hugely. I soon came to stop trying to compose myself, and just let it all run out. It was ironic as not a month ago I began thinking about giving up searching for him, and just move on with my life. But now, I was here, with my brother. And I felt as if we were one again.

Red began crying uncontrollably, and as he started screaming along with me, I noticed my hands stopped twitching. We were one again.

I didn't know how long we hugged each other, crying. But it was so emotionally draining for me, that I drifted off to sleep. I normally would've been annoyed at myself for this, but I slept better than I ever have for three decades now that I was with my brother. At least, I _did _sleep better. But something happened...

* * *

><p><em>What was this place?<em>

_There was nothing but white. The ground was white, the sky was white, the distance was white._

_I looked down to see that I wasn't white. Though, I was naked. Something surprised me; my already neatly shaven pubic hair was gone. Confused, I placed my hand onto my head and noticed that my hair was gone as well._

_"What?..." I turned to see Red next to me, naked as well. Again, he was missing what little hair he had on his head._

_"Where are we?" I asked him._

_Red turned his gaze to look at the white distance. "I don't know."_

_I followed his gaze to see that he wasn't just looking at the distance. "Better yet, what's that?"_

_The distant figure began to get closer and closer faster than it should since it appeared to be walking._

_"Red?..."_

_"I don't know what it is. I don't know what any of this is."_

_Instead of waiting, I began to approach the figure that was approaching us. Red didn't try to stop me, and instead followed behind me closely._

_Soon,the figure began to fade in. What I saw horrified me._

_It was a hybrid of both me and Red. The figure wore a face which was a mix between Red and my face with breasts that had the same body marks as me with the same small mole I had under my left nipple._

_It had Red's muscles, and along with the male like body and my breasts, it looked horrific. But what disturbed me the most was its gentile area._

_It had a vagina -my vagina- and protruding from its vagina was Red's penis._

_I finally let out small cry of shock when I finally saw it fully. Its mouth and green eyes were the only thing that didn't resemble us. Its eyes were sharp and evil-looking, and its mouth was wide and demonic with teeth protruding over its lips._

_The demonic figure charged at me. Red managed to leap into the way, grabbing the figure and pulling it away from me._

_I made to flank the figure when I heard Red scream out in pain before the figure send him flying towards me, blood covering him. He smashed into me, sending me flying back onto the hard, white ground._

_I tried to move out from under Red's weight, but saw the figure with something in its hand -Red's penis._

_The figure grinned before eating Red's penis._

_"WHAT THE FUCK!" I screamed. Nothing made sense; why was I seeing this?! What was the point?! Was this some type of weird wet-dream fetish I was having of my brother?! Why was what I seeing so provocative; so disgusting?! Was_

_I began to tear up as the figure slowly began to approach us. But Red suddenly burst up from lying on me, and sprinted towards the figure._

_"I didn't need that anyway!" He roared as he slammed his fist into the figure._

_The figure didn't flinch, and instead grabbed the arm that Red hit it with, and ripped it from Red's shoulder._

_Red's bloodcurdling scream filled my ears as the figure kicked him back before running towards me._

_"This is not veracious." I heard an unfamiliar, strong voice say from nowhere as everything around me halted to a standstill._

_"What does this appalling panorama epitomize?"_

_I screamed as loud as I could at the sight of the figure mere inches from attacking me, from Red lying on the ground with blood covering him._

_"It is required to cease."_

* * *

><p>Screaming, I flung myself up from leaning over Red's chest to look around the room, tears in my eyes.<p>

Only seconds later, Red woke up screaming as well. I was about to hug him out of an overbearing fear that had taken control of me when Lynda's arms wrapped around me and pulled me back into her embrace.

"I thought you were dead." She cried, her tears dripping onto my uniform.

"Dead?" I asked.

Timmy's voice came over the room's intercom. "Both you and Sierra-098's vitals flat-lined for unknown reasons while you were asleep. You were dead instantly according to the machinery hooked up to Sierra-098, your neural implants, and my own personal assessment system."

"I feel dead." Red remarked.

"I don't blame you," I agreed, gently pulling away from Lynda who was trying to hide her emotions in front of all the doctors and few Marines. Once I was free from her tight embrace, I got up and took a seat on a stool next to Red's cot. "That's if you actually went through what I saw you went through."

"Dick and armed ripped off -yep." He confirmed.

"Shit," I cursed, rubbing my head. "What the hell happened?"

Red let out a pained sigh as a doctor began examining him. "Don't know, Nai, but whatever happened to me _there _is inflicting pain on me _here_. I still feel like I lost two very important assets of mine, and I'm in _intense_ pain," Red looked up to the doc that was examining him. "Speaking of which: Doc, can I have some morphine?"

"I'll get you something." The doc replied.

Something didn't add up to Red's detailed explanation; where was the pain on my side? "Red, I don't feel anything."

"Don't sound so _glum _about it," Red joked. "It's odd, but I wouldn't complain. Huh, the Gravemind seems just as baffled about it as we are."

I raised my eyes. "I half expected it to have somehow found a way to fuck up both our minds, and was the one who caused this."

Red let out a little emotionless chuckle. "It was the one who stopped it from continuing; too gross for it, apparently."

"If it stopped it for you, how did he stop it for me?" I questioned Red. Suddenly, the horrific and terrifying thought came to my mind. "Wait, it can access any and every info source in the Universe at any time, from anywhere, so can it also _manipulate _the systems it can hack into? Like, take control of ships and that?"

An expression appeared on Red's face that said 'don't worry'. "No, no; of course the Precursors ain't _that _stupid. They knew of the chances of the Inspectoris Omnium falling into the Flood's _tentacles_, and decided not to make _that_ big a risk," Red began leaning back as the doc began checking his head and injecting morphine into his arm via syringe. "But I'm just as confused as to how it seems to be able to-" Red put his hand up as if saying 'wait'. "Wait... Okay, apparently it can access your mind via the psychological energy link between us."

I raised my eyes in shock. "So it can now _take control _of me and make me sprout garbage?"

"No, don't worry, Nai, it can't go that in-depth with its manipulation of your mind since its not _actually _connected up to your brain. But it can prevent you from saying things it doesn't want you to say," Red appeared as if he was musing. " Hm, Looks like it just found out about the link, and hasn't got any plans on exploiting it -yet."

A doc offered to check me over, but I 'no thank you' gesture as I didn't need a check over because Timmy would just check my vitals and stats anyway. "Can the Gravemind shed some light on what happened?"

A doc began shining a light into Red's eyes. "Not yet. But it plans on looking into it as it's intrigued as much as it's disgusted."

"It's disgusted by that?" I scoffed. "Doesn't it want to absorbed all life into a single, gruesome mass where every living thing will either be eaten or live the rest of eternity in a tortured state?"

"Meh," Red shrugged with the doctor placing a hand on his shoulder to make him stay still. "The Flood have morals too."

Lynda let out a long laugh from behind me and I couldn't help by smirk as well. I could believe that fucking animals had morals, but not the Flood.

Red shrugged again with the doctor again making him stay still. "Whether they _really _do or not doesn't really matter at the moment. what does matter is that they -or the Gravemind- are smart enough to know what's good for them. And the Gravemind knows that me dying isn't good for its _'plans_', and that I'll likely die if I don't tell you what you came to ask me. Yes, Dorhan is planning something big."

Lynda slammed her hand down onto a bench as I jumped off of my stool and clenched my hands around one of the bars of Red's cot. "What's he planning?"

"Dorhan's worried that you going straight to FLEETCOM rather than the designated ONI facility on _Earth _will break mission parameters, and that he'll be arrested for not making sure you stick to the mission parameters. He's also scared that the charges will rack up against him if he allows you to breach security protocol by telling FLEETCOM about classified Intel-"

"Yes, yes." I urged, gesturing for him to get to the point.

"He's planning a mutiny. To detain you, those who are likely to kick his ass over it, and anyone who resists to the brig until we get back to _Earth_. He initially planned on killing the crew that supported the idea of exposing ONI's crimes, but that was just a misconception he had about ONI, and changed his mind after he realized how fucking stupid he was."

"How _slightly _fucking stupid he _is_." I jokingly corrected Red.

"Right. Anyway, he hasn't got a lot of manpower to assist him, but he has Timmy -who's the key- and hopes to have Fleighted Fire and the Monarch help him out as well since he _is _actually following Human protocol."

The likely hood of the Monarch and Fleighted Fire helping Dorhan was dangerously high. "A bad protocol," I sighed as I sat back onto my stool, shaking my head in annoyance. "So, Timmy, you _are _ONI."

"I'm not permitted to speak to you about this topic." Timmy informed us over the room's intercoms.

"That confirmed it." I sighed in annoyance at the AI's unintentional stupidity.

"Who else is supporting him?" Lynda urged Red.

"Doctor Hallas Day, Doctor Campbell Joyce, Alex Giles-"

"Giles," I scoffed. "Finally, a reason to throw that shit into the brig." I had always disliked Giles over his constant aggression, but after he called Red a machine, things became personal.

"Yeah. They also have some Marine and ODST Fireteams. Fireteam Night-"

"Night?" Lynda let out an emotionless chuckle of disbelief. "Nuh, no, Morgan and Cylus get along too well with most of the crew to risk getting into a firefight with them."

"They didn't have a choice." Red stated.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because they're ONI employed convicts."

Both me and Lynda exclaimed: "_WHAT?!_" at the same time as each other.

"Yeah. All five of them were friends in the prison they were in, and looked out for each other. During a prison break, they used their teamwork to kill a bunch of inmates in defense that they had previous grievances with, and decided to attack them during the chaos. Unfortunately, the press wasn't too happy about the break as over a dozen guards were killed, and they called for all those involved to be executed. All five of them were involved even though they made no move to _actually _escape the prison, and were sentenced to death."

Red took a breath as he continued. The docs has finished checking him up, and were now listening keenly. "ONI liked the reports of the five's teamwork, and managed to jump in before they were executed. The deal was that the five convicts would serve as ONI's lapdogs for a decade, and in return, they would each receive new IDs to start a new life."

"Fuck," Lynda cursed. "I actually grew to like some of those guys."

"Not all of them are bad," Red reassured us. "Franti was a ODST prior to his conviction, but killed an ODST Squad after they insulted his family that had recently died on _Arcadia_. Cylus also ain't bad as he only assassinated a corrupted Governor who was planning on selling his planet out to the Insurrectionists. ONI was planning on assassinating the Governor anyway, but just got lucky when they found a scapegoat to please the angry press who couldn't know that their beloved politics were not so _lovable_."

"Maybe we could use that to make him reconsider..." Lynda suggested.

"We mightn't need to," Red replied. "He only reluctantly agreed to go along with Dorhan's plans out of fear of what Franti would do to him if he was the '_odd one out_', he has since done all he could to try to point out flaws in Dorhan's plans, and I bet it wouldn't be long before he decided '_fuck_ it'and completely refused to comply."

"What about the others? Can we convince the others?" I asked him, trying not to let the stress of the situation seep into my voice.

"Both Franti and Douglas are no goes as Franti couldn't care less about the _Kryptonite _and her crew, and only plans to continue fighting in the UNSC until he dies; I personally don't think he'll survive long enough to die in battle as he's suffering from an ever increasing depression case, and I can see him committing suicide pretty soon. Douglas is similar as in he doesn't care what happens to the crew, and will only do what Franti decides."

"What did he do?" I questioned Red.

"Who?" Red asked.

"Douglas. What did he do?"

Red let out a sigh. "He murdered _a lot _of people, Nai. It's actually an interesting story that I'll tell you about later."

"What about Morgan and that idiot Roras?" Lynda asked him. "Can they be convinced to reconsider?"

"Not Roras as he too doesn't care about the crew, and only wants his ID so he can go back to molesting girls-"

"What?!" I asked, anger in my voice.

"Sorry. He was convicted for molesting over two hundred girls, and plans to go back to the hobby once he's released from ONI's grasp -ONI's aware of this, but don't plan on pointing fingers at him when reports start coming in of girls going missing on the planet he's on."

"Jesus." Lynda sighed.

"And Franti's friends with him?" I scoffed.

"Not out of choice." Red stated.

"Really?" I urged.

"Yeah, Roras's brother, Sectrin Roras, was actually a member of Franti's little group in the prison, but was murdered by an inmate that had a thing against him. He bled out in Franti's arms before medics could help him, but begged Franti to protect his little brother who has so far only been protected by Sectrin. Franti agreed, and now has to put up with Roras's behavior out of a commitment to his dead friend."

"Jeeze, feel sorry for the poor guy." Lynda remarked.

"And Morgan?" I urged, changing the topic back on course.

"I don't know," Red replied. "As much as he doesn't like the idea of betraying his friends, he _really _wants that new ID."

"Why?" Lynda asked.

"He kidnapped, raped, killed, and cannibalized 20 young models and actresses."

"_Oh for fuck's sake!_" Lynda growled. "Who let these guys onto this ship?!"

"He actually _hates_ himself over what happens, and only wants a new ID so he can start a new life where he can try to help people and change the worlds in a better place -his long term goal is to be remembered as someone who did good in his lifetime." Red explained.

I scoffed. "I call bullshit on that. One does not wake up one day and realize that they're a fucking monster, and that they fucked up."

Red shook his head. "The Gravemind says that it's true, and I don't see a reason for him to lie."

"Fine, I won't kill him." Lynda grumbled.

"Thank you." Red smiled, and I suddenly remembered that he could know what we were thinking if the Gravemind told him.

"Okay," I got up and began pacing. "So there's Fireteam Night; who else?"

"There's also Gunnery Sergeant David Larson who _is in fact _an ONI agent -confirming your thoughts," I felt uncomfortable with the Gravemind peeking around in my mind, but it couldn't be helped -at the moment. I nodded in acknowledgement, and was about to reply when Red added: "But not an ONI agent by choice, Nai, so don't hate him?"

"What do you mean by that?" Lynda questioned Red.

Red let out a sigh. "He's a clone."

I narrowed my eyes as Lynda exclaimed: "_What?! Really?! What the fuck?!_"

"A... _'clone'_?" I double-checked.

"Yeah. Like me and the other SPARTANs, he was trained from a young age in the art of combat, so he is _extremely _dangerous, guys; a match for me in skill and physic."

"Can he be taken out if he needed?" Lynda asked, sounding nervous.

Red nodded. "Yes. Though, it won't be that simple; an easy task not. If he needs to be taken down, I think only I could succeed in it. But he has certain physical and mental impairments due to his cloning, and he hasn't got augments, so that might give me an advantage as well as an advantage to others that mightn't have a choice but to engage him in combat."

I began pacing. "_Why the hell_... is ONI so interested in breaking the laws it so _desperately _acts on to uphold?"

"Huh?" Lynda asked me, seemingly confused to what I meant.

"The Mortal Dictata. It goes on about how a Human is a Human no matter what, and that no single Human belongs to any individual, and a Humans must _never _be cloned."

Red let out a scoff. "Apparently Parangosky hates Halsey because she cloned us without her permission, and disagrees with cloning."

"But?..." I urged, knowing there was more to it.

"She _personally _sanctioned the experiment that created Larson," I let out a sigh as Red continued. "It- it's another long story that I'll tell you later. Right now, we have more pressing matters."

"Agreed," I nodded. "Who else is working alongside Dorhan?"

"Fireteam Hazard and Location -mostly assholes who want credits. And added to that list in the two hours we were asleep is twenty-six Marines and two ODSTs that don't want to be locked away by ONI for resisting him-"

I spun around at the sounds of the room's door closing. Lynda instantly rushed to the door but got there too late; the door was shut, and its control pad went red as it entered a lock-down.

Timmy.

I hurried over to Lynda who was slamming her shoulder into the door with the help of a Marine. "Damn it, Timmy, open up!" I yelled.

"Negative, ma'am. Lieutenant Dorhan has been alerted, and is on-route with Fireteam Location and Hazard to remove you, Sierra-098, and Lieutenant Colonel Keyes to the brig."

I let out a growl as I slammed my leg into the door. "You're dead, you stupid piece of code; you hear me? _You're dead_!"

"Your violence won't help in the case that is being filed by me against you to the HIGHCOM Security Council." Timmy warned me.

"Add a 'fuck you, from Jsarez' to the report." I growled as both me, Lynda, and two Marines slammed into the door at the same time.

"Your sense of humor will not be enacted on." Timmy informed me.

"_Whatever_!" I growled, backing away from the door while waving my arms at my side to get the pain of slamming them into the door out.

Lynda put her hand up to her ear-piece. "Hang on, ma'am, trying to contact White... nothing; Timmy's blocked the COMs."

"Dammit." I muttered under my breath, taking a seat on one of the couches in the recovery room that was opposite from a screen on the wall. You'd swear they build a lounge in this room as well as an _actual _recovery room. Must be an ONI luxury thing they decided to add along with one of their many modifications they did to the _Kryptonite _over the years.

"So, we just wait?" One of the docs asked.

"Yep," Lynda answered, pulling out her M6C. "And as soon as that door opens, heads are gonna roll."

"I highly discourage this, Lieutenant Colonel." Timmy warned her.

"Well, I highly discourage _this_," She gestured to the door. "but you won't take that into consideration, so I won't take your warning into consideration."

"Lynda's right," I told Timmy. "Open up, and violence won't pursue. But we're still finishing this mission my way."

"A breakage of protocol is unacceptable," Timmy replied. "You'll be detained until we arrive back to _Earth_. I apologize for this, Captain, as I came to enjoy the company of you and your crew, and I looked forward to you attempts to strengthen your relationship with me."

I narrowed my eyes. "You know about that?"

"I picked up on it." Timmy replied. This just made things worse for my subconscious as I'd started to feel guilty for what I said to the AI, and what I planned on doing to him

"Could someone let me out of these God awful restrains?" Red suddenly asked. "I _really _need to stretch."

Smiling, I got up and walked over to Red's cot. "I thought my muscles felt funny." I remarked, undoing Red's arm restraints before working on the rest. I worried that he might of stricken out, but he remained composed, and got up where he proceeded to stretch his arms and neck.

"Lynda..." Red turned to face Lynda as he stretched his arms.

"...Yeah?" She asked.

"The Gravemind wants to say that although he admires you taking it by surprise, acting against its interests again will result in your death not being quick and painless when it comes."

A grin appeared across Lynda's face. "Too bad its _plans _for everyone dying ain't gonna play out."

The Gravemind didn't make Red press it, and Red instead took a seat on the couch to the right of the door, the one I was seated on recently that was opposite a screen on the wall that served as a TV screen for patients in recovery and guests. Again, the thought of ONI's luxury items they added came to my head, and how I enjoyed those items. That terminal in my room... it had everything I needed. It didn't exactly help my hatred for ONI that I enjoyed using the nice little bits and pieces they added to the ship.

ONI began adding their own modifications to the _Kryptonite _about five months ago after they received jurisdiction over us from FLEETCOM, and although we still answered to FLEETCOM, the _Kryptonite _now participated in a lot of missions issued by ONI. The mods were just there to reinforce that the _Kryptonite was _ONI property.

Lynda began coordinating the Marines to what was going to happen when Dorhan arrived. They were to barricade the entrance, and engage if necessary while remaining behind the cover of a few portable tables that were being moved around. The docs would hold up at back out-of-the-way while both me and Red stay back and cover them with our sidearms. Red himself didn't have his own PDW, but a Marine gave him one of his -a M6D which made Red happy.

With nothing to do but wait, I took a seat next to Red on the couch. There was an awkward silence until Red finally spoke up. "I know the pain you went through all those years, but 098 kept them sealed up inside him -where I was. So while 098 was functioning like a machine in any situation, I was experiencing the pain that happened to you all those years-"

I moved closer to Red where I laid my head on his shoulder. "You can't change the past, Red. And desiring to do so will only ruin the present. Just know that it ain't your fault what happened, and that I've healed _a lot _over the years."

Red turned to look at me as I sat back up. "How'd you recover from it?"

I turned to look at him. How did I recover? I didn't. "I didn't recover, Red. I only moved forward. But what Eric did to me haunts me every night before I go to bed. I can always feel his tongue on me, in me; always. And it never, _ever _goes away," Red nodded his head slightly as I continued. "But I wouldn't let someone like him ruin my life, so I moved on."

"I noticed that all the stress and mental pain that came over you slowly began to disperse over the years until it was barely there. But there was still each night... I felt you in some type of distress each night. And the actual time it happened... I was thankfully not on a mission, because I felt... broken, and I could feel sensations of licking all over my body. I also felt mentally and physically sick, and remember vomiting which concerned of my follow SPARTANs."

An idea came to my head. "Perhaps the reason I was able to move on was because my mental pain was shared with you. I didn't let it consume me because it was split in half with you."

"Yeah," I saw Red grin out of the corner of my eye. "you owe me one."

I playfully tapped his shoulder. "Hey! How 'bout all the times you got lazy, and allowed a Covenant to-"

Red interrupted me by putting his finger up to hush me before he proceeded to sniff the air. I smelt it too... a burning smell.

"Ionized plasma," Red reported. "There's also burning and sparks. It's coming from behind us." We both hopped up at the same time and approached the back wall of the room with Lynda and a few Marines regrouping on us to see what was happening.

"I know that smell..." Lynda mused. "Not a smell I like..."

Two glowing blades suddenly appeared through the wall -the tips of an energy sword. The sword began cutting out a large rectangle in the wall before the cut out section of the wall fell back to reveal 'Lodam and White standing there.

My jaw dropped. Was this really happening?

"It occurred to me that the potential for me to slay the Demon in the time to come was at risk. I was not going to allow that risk to continue its existence." 'Lodam explained. I translated it as: 'I don't like the idea of Red getting executed by ONI instead of me personally killing him'. I had never been so grateful for someone wanting to kill one of my family members; I didn't think it was something someone _could_ _be _grateful for.

"How- how did you know?" Lynda questioned them.

It was White who answered. "The Monarch told us, thought it had the right to warn us that shit was 'bout to go down. Though it told us to stay secure while it discussed what was gonna happen with Timmy and Dorhan, we decided to go ahead and help you. The Monarch isn't too happy 'bout that."

"So, is the Monarch gonna help us?" I asked White.

'Lodam butted in before White could reply. "You Humans speak too much in such a time of distress -this concludes why you are losing the war to us."

I glared at 'Lodam, showing my pissed off expression. He didn't seem to mind, and I swear that the clicking of his hidden mandibles that he was doing was of amusement.

"Fine then," Lynda growled. "What're standing around for?"

Anve 'Lodamee suddenly charged out of nowhere and slammed into Red, pinning him against the wall where he forced Red's head to the side and began speaking into Red's ear. "WHERE'S MY BLADE, PARASITE?!"

Both me and Lynda and the Marines closed on Anve raising our guns at him.

"At ease, Humans," 'Lodam told us. "This violence is directed not at the Demon."

"Then tell your buddy to _back off_." Lynda warned 'Lodam, placing her Magnum onto Anve's temple.

Anve didn't notice Lynda and instead waited for Red's answer -which he didn't have to wait long for. "The Gravemind distributed all usable equipment I had when I was captured to the Combat Forms. The Combat Form with your energy sword is located within the Quarantine Zone, and the Gravemind doesn't plan on moving the Combat Form out of the Quarantine Zone."

Anve released Red before backing off, kicking the wall with his armored hoof as he let out a long growl of irritation. We all lowered our weapons once we realized that no violence was gonna happen.

"Quick your bitching," Lynda scolded the Elite before turning to face the docs and Marines. "'kay, boys and gals, get your asses in that 'tunnel' and keep on Captain White's lead."

Since the 'tunnel' was bought up, I turned to see where exactly White, Anve and 'Lodam came from. Upon a quick assessment, I saw that 'Lodam had cut through multiple walls and that the tunnel went through multiple corridors. I guessed they cut a path from the officer's lounge all the way over here, so there was a nice big hole through the _Kryptonite's _interior now.

"Great." I muttered in annoyance as I walked over to White who was directing all the docs and Marines into the entrance of the makeshift tunnel.

"Cap," He nodded at me.

"You keep saving my ass, and I'm gonna run out of sushi." I joked.

White waved a Marine off before turning to face me. "Don't worry, we can always delay dinner 'till we get back to _Earth_."

Lynda came from behind me and grabbed White by his ear. "Stop chatting her up," Lynda scolded White as he said 'ow' several times. "and get us out of here!"

I had to hold in a laugh as I turned and began to follow the Elites and others as they made their way down the makeshift tunnel.

Little did I know that the whole ordeal was nowhere near from over.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

You could argue that the likely hood of an energy sword being able to cut through the walls of a Human ship is low, but remember that level on Halo 2 where the Arbiter has to cut those cables on that Forerunner mining facility? If an energy blade can cut through Forerunner metals, I believe it could cut through Human metals. Plus, those walls that Thel cut through aren't _that_ thick -I think. But lore covering the intensity of the inside walls of Human ships is limited to nil, so I decided to make things up myself.


	32. Defiance: Part One

_I'm not quite sure when I began to fade away, only that I just did._

_A personality of my own creation took control of me, and forcefully buried me deep within myself. A personality of composure, obedience, and nativity._

_Over the years this fake personality inhabited me, all the mental pain and stress that was inflicted on it was instead sent to me. While it remained stoic, I never spent a moment of rest in forcing myself back out, and never received a moments' respite for Nai's pain._

_Everything that Nai went through I felt -not 098. I was a relief for it while it remained focused; I was a distraction for all the anguish sent from Nai to it. Never did 098 experience the stress Nai went through; only the pain of injuries she obtained as pain was not something 098 could keep solely directed onto me._

_But after thirty years, I was finally able to surface, and break through the wall 098 set to keep me trapped. I managed to recover my body and mind, and I was me again._

_But I now know what 098 felt like to have me constantly irritate it, and fight against it, as I am not alone._

_The spore of the Gravemind swarms my head; preventing me from speaking about all the things I wanted to speak about, all the information I wanted to tell Nai only to let me say what it sanctions._

_I'm subjected to its constant brutality and sadistic nature; its complex speech patterns, and its devastating plans for the future._

_All life will be absorbed into the Flood; the Precursor's final act: To make their creations never defy them again. The Flood were the Precursors, and they were both impossible to comprehend by mere Humans._

_What was comprehensible was the fact that Humanity were the Reclaimers; chosen by the Precursors, and chosen by the Forerunners. A long and horrible history led to the Precursor's downfall, and it was centered around us._

_The Precursors could not trust the chosen Forerunners as Guardians of all that exist, and planned to pass the role down to us -Humanity._

_The Forerunners could not stand the mere idea of losing their power, and drove their Gods to near extinction. The Precursors only survived to come back with a vengeance._

_I often dwelt on whether or not life should really be consumed by the Flood as a punishment. But I remember that the decisions of a few to not reflect on an entire race. How many Forerunners defended the Precursors? How many refused to agree with the Forerunner's brutality against the Precursors?_

_The Precursors were also not a universal mind, and some did not want the Flood to absorb every living thing that exists. If even the Precursors had different opinions based on them not being a singular mind, what right do they have to change it so everything is universal?_

_Thinking about it, I found it similar with the Office of Naval Intelligence. I hated everyone who were employed by them, but what if they had opinions of their own?_

_The Gravemind only confirmed my theories when he showed me that this was Rhine Dorhan's last mission before he retired from the Office of Naval Intelligence. The Gravemind showed me that Rhine was disgusted by the Office of Naval Intelligence's work, and wanted nothing more to do with them. But he did agree that their work saved Humanity._

_I no longer hated Rhine. I actually wanted to kill him not long ago. Now, I wanted him to live so he could be with his daughter that he so desperately wanted to get back to. I would make Nai see this as well._

_I couldn't believe the possibility that we both wouldn't see things the same way as looking back down the cut out tunnel through the Kryptonite's interiors, I saw what couldn't be described approaching us._

_Even in our dreams, the figure had no boundaries._

_What was it? I didn't know. It represented both me and Nai, but it was also a demonic creature in features._

_Was I looking at a collective mass of both me, Nai, Eric and 098?_

_Along with us, Did it represent our demons?_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Installation 06 Timeline.<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547 [1238 Hours] Human Military Calendar]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, On-Route To Officer Lounge Via Makeshift Tunnel, Installation 06]**

**[POV]****-****[Red Jsarez]**

* * *

><p>My blood oozed from the creatures' mouth as it cocked its head, the dim light of the corridors we pasted through reflecting on its skin, shining out every small detail.<p>

"Do you- do you see it?" I asked Nai as she stopped beside me. I felt her stress and anxiety at looking at the creature- was it a creature? Could it be classed a creature?

Nai took a deep breath. "Yeah, I see it."

"Captain, Petty Officer," I heard White say as his footsteps stopped to indicate that he was behind us. "is everything okay?"

The dim lights showed the creature smile before it seemingly faded into thin air, leaving both me and Nai baffled.

I felt Nai's heart beat increase; her stress levels rise. Something was wrong...

"Listen, with all due respect, we need to-"

Courtney spun around before White could finish, smashing her clenched fist across his cheek. "DON'T EVERT TOUCH ME! _EVER!_" She screamed before storming past White to catch up with Lynda, the four Marines, three doctors, and 'Lodam and Anve who were all looking back to us at the sound of screaming.

White let out a pained grunt as he began rubbing his cheek, turning his head from looking at Nai to look at me. "I don't- what-... What happened there?"

_(Her precipitous surge of pugnacity is correlated with her elapsed emotions directed at the palpator ,et prohibita zonis) _I translated this as 'her sudden attack was caused by past emotions related to Eric' which only further supported my theories of this thing being our demons. Was she seeing something that I wasn't? _(I can corroborate your conjecture) _I translated this as 'I can confirm your theory' which must have meant that the Gravemind saw what Nai saw by its psychological connection with her.

But what did she see? _(A semblance of the palpator ,et prohibita zonis) _So she saw an illusion of Eric instead of the creature I was seeing.

Noticing that I wasn't answering, White lowered his head slightly as he began to make his way up the corridor towards the rest of the group. "Sir, wait," I turned around quickly. White also stopped and turned to face me. "Sorry, about not answering you, I was thinking on what just happened."

"It's okay," White reassured me. "But... what happened?"

I looked past White to see 'Lodam standing at the edge of the group, cocking his head back towards the direction we were going as if saying 'come on'. "It's a long and complicated story; one we don't have time for."

"Right, of course." White nodded in acknowledgement before he turned back around and continued back up to the group, me on his tail.

"I'll tell you later, sir, that's a given." I assured him.

White nodded, not turning back to face me. I could see he was nervous as Nai was standing behind 'Lodam, waiting for us. Not saying a word, Nai waited for White to pass both her and 'Lodam and head to the front of the group before raising her head from gazing at the ground to look at me, remorse in her eyes.

"Shit." She muttered under her breath before she turned back around and followed 'Lodam back up to where the rest of the group was waiting for us. I took up the rear, checking every now and again if the figure was still there.

It never left us.

As we all filed down the tunnel, I began examining my surroundings. I analyzed what happened. It looked like 'Lodam had cut straight from the officer's lounge to my recovery room; cutting into multiple corridors and through a lot of walls. Thankfully, the corridors were still sealed off by Timmy, so we didn't have to worry about being ambushed. But Timmy could open the doors at anytime, and we might not hear them. So the doors in corridors further back could open, and some of the mutineers could come up behind us.

Thinking about the makeshift tunnel, I wondered how much annoyance 'Lodam must had gone through to cut through the multiple walls. I questioned if it was at all possible, but concluded that the power of Covenant tech was still out of my reach of knowledge. Thankfully, the interior of _Charons _wasn't really a priority for the designers, and the walls remain, to this day, thin with all the effort being placed on the hull.

Thinking on this, I realized that the officer's lounge was one floor above us, so they must have cut a hole in the floor of the officer's lounge. This was confirmed once we reached the end of the tunnel, and saw a large rectangle hole in the roof.

White inspected the hole for a few minutes before he nodded to an invisible individual in the officer's lounge which must have told him that the coast was clear. White then turned to face Anve. "Mind giving me a hand?" The Elites had to cut the tunnel big enough for them to fit through, so the roof was pretty high.

Anve let out a grunt as he pushed past two Marines in front and hefted White up by his waist. It didn't take a genius to realize that Anve was in a _very _uncomfortable position -yet he still had the other Marines and doctors along with me and Nai to lift up; I actually found a bit of amusement at his task.

Eventually we all made it through the hole with me being heft up last. Once I was in the officer's lounge, I analyzed the area. It looked like White came with two Marines when he visited 'Lodam for whatever reason, and those Marines had taken up a defensive position near the entrance to the officer's lounge, taking cover behind the couches that they moved. Kri, Suras, and the Grunts were backing the Marines up with Freyn guarding the hole.

Freyn looked a lot better, and he no longer had his arm in a sling, and he seemed to be holding his carbine just like he did before he was attacked by the Drones.

The entrance to the officer's lounge had no door, and this often bothered me for security reasons to make a safe-haven if the Covenant ever invaded a ship. Now, I was thankful as Timmy couldn't lock us in here by sealing the door.

"So," I turned to face Nai who was watching Lynda order the other Marines to the perimeter. "What's the plan?"

She turned from watching Lynda to face me. "To be honest... I really have no idea; I mean, we're trapped here, and it doesn't look like we're going anywhere without the Elites cutting through more interiors."

I turned my head behind me to see 'Lodam standing idling near the perimeter, watching for movement. "I doubt he'll be up for that." I replied as I turned my head back around to face Nai.

"He doesn't have to as last time I checked, you had training in the handling of Covenant weapons."

"I doubt he'll give me his energy sword after I lost Anve's." I replied.

"Anve's an idiot, 'Lodam's not-"

"He _is _an idiot if he think he can fight me and win."

Nai rolled her eyes. "You guys ain't gonna be fighting each other, for God's sake. What this is," Nai gestured to me then to 'Lodam. "is a silly feud fed on by a personal hatred. You're both soldiers; you both kill without-"

"I'm not a soldier, Nai; not by choice. I never wanted to be a soldier, and I still don't like being a soldier. What _I am_ is a machine, and in the end, I'll die for Humanity, not ONI or the UNSC. And I _will _kill him; nobody will stop me. When the time comes, I'll squeeze his life out of his eyes."

"Careful," Nai warned me. "He might hear you."

I slightly grinned as I called out to 'Lodam. "'Lodam, just talking about how I'm gonna kill you here, you got a problem with that?"

'Lodam didn't turn his gaze from watching the corridors, but replied nevertheless. "Keep you strategy to yourself as an uneven duel can hardly be considered a duel at all."

I cocked my head in a mocking manner at Nai who let out an annoyed sigh. "You're both acting like children."

I shrugged. "I ain't much off as all that emotional control shit was taught to 098. 'Lodam? Who knows? Sangheili aging hasn't been researched, so 'Lodam could be a teen in he's race's years for all we know."

Nai muffled a chuckle before a serious look appeared on her face. "We should leave the chit-chat for later."

"Agreed," I replied as I turned and made my way over to 'Lodam. "Hey, I need your sword."

'Lodam let out what I figured was a scoff. "Losing Anve's blade incites doubt within my mind that you can relinquish my blade back to me when the future time comes to unfold."

I turned back to face Nai and gave her a look that said 'I told you so'. Nai rolled her eyes, but suddenly stopped and stared at something behind me. Wasting no time, I drew my M6D and spun around as fast as I could, only to have my pistol aiming at the figure.

_(The semblance? Does it grasp no confinements?)_ The demonic creature violently formed into the exact figure of Halsey. Her dark hair, her cold eyes, her stern face. It was an exact copy of her. "Red... do you hate me? Do you hate me for what I did?"

_(Do not respond to this semblance) _I didn't need the Gravemind to tell me. I calmly lowered my weapon and holstered it; what others couldn't see didn't exist. My mind couldn't harm me -or could it? After all, that dream harmed me. _(I seek where this semblance is, and reassure its inevitable extinguish)  
><em>I hoped that the Gravemind would hurry as next time, I may lash out like Nai did, and my punch could do more than leave a bruise.

"Have you finally ceased your farce?" 'Lodam asked me. I guessed that pointing my gun at a wall could raise questions; questions I didn't want 'Lodam asking.

Ignoring his question, I raised one of my own. "If you aren't going to give me your sword, can you _at least _help us."

'Lodam let out a low growl. "I was awaiting your proceedings! Do you believe I made a plan to stand around and await our foe?"

I resisted growling back at him. "How the hell am I meant to know any of this?"

"Can you not see into the minds of anyone, and witness their thoughts?"

I didn't push it. "Can you just get up to the front before we start killing each other?"

'Lodam aggressively clicked his mandibles. "I have needs to have knowledge of WHICH DIRECTION I MUST CUT IN!"

His sudden roar almost made me jump, but I maintained my composure. It was Nai who answered him. "The mess is our best chance."

"Yeah, the crew's likely finished lunch, but the mess remains full all the time." Lynda added.

"_I am ecstatic_ that I shall have within my mind the smell of your disgusting food soon." Anve joked.

"We ain't particularly fond of what you eat either." Lynda retorted.

"Enough," 'Lodam growled as he pushed past me, bumping me back purposely and making his way to the entrance of the officer's lounge before turning back to face all of us. "Needless to say... I STILL DO NOT KNOW WHERE YOUR 'MESS' IS!"

White let out a light chuckled. "Tulnai, Herald, you're with me. We'll take point with 'Lodam."

"Parker, Dalton, Freud, you guys take the rear." Lynda added. Wade Tulnai, Jacob Dalton, George Parker and Nancy Herald were the Marines selected by Lynda to guard me while I was in recovery. Another four Marines were ready for a shift change, and were likely in the mess. Albert Freud and Jayden Gray were the Marines that came with White when he came to see 'Lodam earlier, and were the Marines that remained in the officer's lounge with the Diverted while White went with 'Lodam and Anve to help us.

"The rest of you's keep to the middle of the formation." Lynda concluded with everyone immediately getting into position. The docs were in the center of the long, but thin formation with the Elites and Kri taking up the side flanks. 'Lodam was in the lead with White right behind him. And behind White was Tulnai and Herald.

We didn't go far down the corridor before we came across the door sealing off the corridor leading up to the officer's lounge -the corridor we were currently in- and the junction with three more corridors. If I remembered correctly, the left corridor in the junction led to the mess-hall.

'Lodam wasted no time in cutting through the door, and I saw that he had no problem with it, and seemed like he was cutting through jelly which explained how both he, Anve and White got to us from the officer's lounge so quickly.

Thinking of jelly made me remember the treats Mendez often gave those who succeeded in certain challenged. I only really got jelly when I was assigned to John's team, and we won whatever challenge Mendez set up for us. John _always _won. Though not at first, he eventually _always _won.

"Shit," Nai cursed about as 'Lodam cut through the door to the corridor we needed to go through -the second door in two minutes. "The Hybrids."

I wasted no time in reassuring her. "Timmy told the Hybrids what happened, and they don't plan on leaving."

"Thank God." Nai led out a sigh of relief. Thinking about it, it was lucky that this topic was bought up as everyone seemed so focused on the matters at hand.

"Do not thank your pathetic and fake deity," 'Lodam growled has he kicked the now cut opened door back with his armored hoof. "Thank that the Hybrids are much more compliant than your measly race is."

"Our 'pathetic' and 'fake' deity has more chance of being real than yours." Freud remarked.

"The fake Gods, the Forerunners, existed," 'Lodam replied. "What proof do you have that your deity exists?"

"Some things don't require proof to exist. You just have to believe they exist."

'Lodam didn't reply. He must had heard wisdom in those words. But my hopes were diminished once we all went through the doorway and entered the next corridor. "That is the most unintelligent things that has ever cursed my mind."

"You have a nerve to mock our religion." Lynda growled.

"Didn't your religion dictate the annihilation of our entire race?" Herald added.

"And your religion has never dictated genocide to a lesser extent before?" 'Lodam questioned. "Do not deny it; I have done research into your pathetic, war driven history, and I can only shudder at the thought of your race controlling the Universe."

"We're more worthy than you." Herald muttered. I knew shit had hit the fan when 'Lodam spun around.

'Lodam was about to say something that I feared would spark an argument when Tulnai spoke up -which was odd for him. "No one has any right to rule over another."

'Lodam turned to face Tulnai. "Do you not fight for an oppressive leadership? Do you not to this very moment fight those who seek to rid themselves of your control?"

Tulnai stared 'Lodam down, his eyes full of cold anger and hate. "I fight for Humanity, not our leaders.

'Lodam spun back around, seemingly tired of the argument. "_How very noble_."

From what I picked up when the Gravemind analyzed Tulnai's persona, he was a quite, silent soldier who only spoke when it was necessary. Speaking out to 'Lodam went against his character, but I guessed it had something to do with Tulnai's personal hate for the Covenant; 'Lodam in particular. Nai knew of Tulnai's hatred and feared for what Tulnai would do. Little did she know that Tulnai wasn't planning on assassinating 'Lodam, but was just watching him and the Diverted to make sure they didn't do anything as out of all the people aboard this ship who didn't trust the Covenant, he was the worst.

Unfortunately for Tulnai, 'Lodam knew that he was watching him, and was anticipating an assassination. I would have to speak to Tulnai after this, and warn him to keep his distance.

We continued without any more _interruptions _for another five minutes until we came across another door that led to a junction. "Let this be a lesson," 'Lodam said as he carved the door down. "Do not put such tasks as controlling a ship into the hands of an Associated Intelligence; they are deceptive, unreliable-"

Shots from a MA5B rung out and bullets deflected off 'Lodam's shields as we hurried through the new doorway and into the junction to take cover. The Elites took up the rear, and protected us from the bullets with their energy shields as we made it through before they too hurried through the doorway to take cover.

None of this made sense; Dorhan wanted to take us alive, and emphasized that the Diverted weren't to be harmed. _(It is the Puer palpator) _The Gravemind then showed me the mind of Ivan Roras, and I saw his intentions. He broke off from Fireteam Night who were going to ambush us further up ahead, and planned on killing us out of madness. He molested over 200 girls. Despite my attempts to not let resentment get in the way, I couldn't help the childish part of me kicking in. It took all I had not to run out there and try to kill him.

"Red, who is it?" Nai asked me, panic her voice. I felt pain in my left arm which meant that she was hit, but it felt like a graze, so I didn't worry

"Ivan Roras. He's off his nutter, guys, he wants to kill us." I elaborated.

"Your weak minds shall not be our downfall." 'Lodam said.

"You have energy shields," Lynda stated. "go out and kill him."

"Is he even still there?" Anve asked.

"Yes, yes he is," I confirmed. "He may be nuts, but he's not blowing off rounds like an idiot."

"He just was!" 'Lodam growled in annoyance. "Used correctly, that weapon may have brought one of our shields down and killed us. Instead, the fool shot at all of us at once with a non controlled fire rate."

"So you admit that our weapons are effective?" Lynda asked.

"I NEVER SAID THEY WERE NOT!" 'Lodam roared in annoyance.

_(He is gone) _I noticed the Gravemind wasn't using his puzzling vocabulary which must have meant it understood the gravity of the situation, and wasn't playing around. "He's gone." I informed them.

"Where?" Lynda asked.

_(The medical bay. His intentions are disgusting but intriguing) _What were his intentions? _(I could tell you, but it is more interesting to make you wonder) _This could be a problem, and it seems that the Gravemind still wanted to play around despite the situation.

"The medical bay. The Gravemind says he's planning something bad, but won't go into specifics. He's moving fast and I recommend you send me after him."

"Go, go!" Nai told me, and I immediately sprinted out of cover and approached Suras.

"Give me your blade, now!" I ordered him and he quickly grabbed it off of his hip and tossed it to me.

"You are never going to see that again." 'Lodam warned Suras as I turned to face Nai.

"Fireteam Night are just up ahead and plan on ambushing you; Timmy may change this now that I've mentioned it, but _be careful_." I then turned around and sprinted through the makeshift doorway and back into the corridor we just came from, and rushed after Roras, relying on the Gravemind to warn me if I was about to run into danger. I felt like I was overreacting as I was _really _running. But I remembered that if a zombie-flytrap creature can find something disgusting, it's incomprehensibly disgusting. And Roras was already a loose cannon, so he could be planning anything. But why would he go from trying to kill us to something else? _(He's mind is demented and twisted. What decisions he makes are only temporarily) _Did that mean he might stop his intended plans? _(No. He has desired to do this for years) _For years?

"Roras? Roras?" I heard a voice call. _(Four up ahead. They are foe) _"What the hell was that all about?"

I turned a corner to see four Marines in body-armor watching as Roras ran around a corner further up ahead.

"What?" One of the Marines asked as I took cover behind a corner. "The Spartan? Shit, Timmy, why didn't you tell us earlier?!"

They knew I was here, and I prepared my M6D. A single shot from my pistol would kill someone if it hit the right spot. But I was hoping that these Marines were smart enough to know that it's not really the best course of action to engage a Spartan. _(These fools believe they can defeat you since you have no armor and a pistol)_ They knew I had a pistol? Timmy must had informed all of the mutineer's of our progress. But it was odd of him to not had informed these Marines that I was coming their way until now.

"Sierra, you're outnumbered and outgunned. Give up, please, I don't want to fight you, I just to go home and see my baby girl again." One of the Marines -likely the leader- told me. I wasn't surrendering. But then I remembered what it was like losing someone you loved. Did I want to be the cause of anguish? I wouldn't surrender, but I wouldn't kill these Marines either.

"If you want to see your daughter again, I recommend you turn back around and piss off." I warned him. I wouldn't actually kill him, but intimidation was my best weapon here.

"I can't do that, Sierra," I heard the Marine reply. I couldn't work out who it was by his voice, so I probably hadn't met him before. "if I do, I'll be locked up by ONI for the rest of my life. I'll take my chances here."

'Shit' was what I instantly thought. If it came down to it, I figured I could take out their kneecaps. Timmy would redirect some medics to help them, and they wouldn't bleed out. But I still didn't want to harm these Marines as they were only doing what they needed to do to see their family again. In their position, I would do the same.

Perhaps I didn't need to fight them. "Listen, Gunnery Sergeant Ivan Roras is heading to the medical bay. I don't know what he's planning, but it's bad according to my source. If you don't want blood on your hands, you better stand the hell down."

"Nice try." A different Marine said. _(Your foolish compassion shall be the end of a life. Incapacitate these fools; I am eager for you to see the devastation the Puer palpator will inflict)_

"Come with me, help me stop him. I'll give you my weapon and everything; just trust me!" _(To your left) _I quickly snapped my head around to see a young male in pilot fatigues walk towards me. He put his finger to his lip as if telling me to be quiet before taking cover next to me. _(He means to assist you) _Why? How did he know what was happening? _(He overheard your words with the fools and fears your words of Roras may be true. Be wary, the Ancilla has warned the fools of his presence)_

"Two of you won't change anything. Just surrender; there's no need for violence." The Marine leader pleaded. Roras was likely closing in on the medical bay, so I had no time.

How close where they? Could I sprint to them? _(Yes. Go. NOW!) _I spun out of cover to see that the Marines were quite close to me. Not stopping, I sprinted into them, landing a punch into the face of a Marine with a shotgun before I spun my leg around to kick another Marine in the chest, sending him flying into the corridor's wall.

I spun back around to disarm the lead Marine of his assault rifle before I flipped the rifle around in my hands and butted him in the chest with it. He fell to the ground where I swung a low kick into his head, sending his limp, hopefully unconscious, body flying across the ground.

I spun to face the last Marine, but he was about to fire, and I couldn't get out-of-the-way. Since my assault rifle was already risen to face him as I never turned around in a combat situation without my weapon raised, I shot three rounds which pierced his plated armor to have blood bubbling out of his mouth and between the gaps in his armor. I killed him, but I had no choice.

The Marine that I kicked into the wall got up as I hadn't fully incapacitated him. He looked at his comrade that I just killed, and was shell-shocked just long enough for me to butt him with my assault rifle.

I didn't have time to recover as I heard: "Don't move." and I turned to the sound of the voice to see the pilot with his M6C raised at me.

"I had no choice." I told him, keeping very still as to not make him shoot me, but nevertheless keeping my assault rifle raised .

He kept his weapon raised at me. "Go, get to the medical bay. I'll catch up. But if I don't find you there, I'll track you down and kill you." I nodded before sprinting back down the hall.

_(You are too late) _"NO!" I yelled as I sped down the corridor. I knew Human weakness; I knew what the mind was capable of doing to someone. Roras was dangerous, and I couldn't let him go out of control. And with the ship being in lock-down, he could freely move about and do what he wanted. But what did he want to do?

The doors began opening which meant that Timmy wanted me to get to the medical bay ASAP. "Timmy, what's he doing?" I asked out loud in hoping the AI would reply over the corridors' intercoms, but he didn't.

I began panicking after I came across the body of a Marine with a few M118 FMJ bullet holes in his armor plating. Roras was out of control, but I was getting close to the medical bay. Both Brian Davis and Tom Harvad were in the medical bay, and I didn't want anything bad to happen to them. But why else would he want to go there? The nurses? Did he want to rape a nurse?

I grunted as I sped towards the door to the medical bay which was open with the control panel looking busted. Roras must had arrived before Timmy fully realized what he was intending, and destroyed the control panel to prevent Timmy from locking him in until security arrived.

I sped into the medical bay and quickly analyzed the area.

Chief Medical Officer Howard Klyn was sitting on his chair, leaning over his desk with a knife in the back of his head. Several other doctors were lying around the room with bullet holes riddling them. Harvad was on the ground, a knife in his chest, Lex Tyre was still laying on his bed, unharmed and Davis was lying on his bed, eyes wide opened as he watched Roras do something to someone he was leaning over on a cot.

I raised my assault rifle as I carefully approached Roras. There was a sound... flesh being cut. The worst came to my find. I discreetly flanked Roras to see what he was doing. What I saw almost made me grunt and jump back.

He was leaning over Lieutenant Amber Wong, a knife shoveled up her genital as he worked the knife around. He was cutting her genital area open into a _huge, gaping hole_.

What ran through someones head to make them do something like this? What possible aspect of a brain could make someone do something like this? Can a Human brain even be able to think up something so evil? Could a Human really be such a monster?

"Petty-" Davis muttered. "Off-... plea-.. _please kill him!_"

Roras turned around to face me, a giant, horrific grin on his face. He was not a good looking man; bald head, rough brown/black goatee, low and sharp eyebrows, a round face with a sharp jaw, and his cold, sharp blue eyes and pale complexion only made him more menacing. He was covered in scars and tattoos, but there was no mistaking; this man was not an ODST. "Been wanting to try this for years. But you see, little girls," I stared coldly at Roras, waiting for the slightest reason for me to shoot him. "And I just couldn't do it to an adult as they don't fancy me." Why was he telling me this? Why didn't he try to kill me so I could in turn kill him? "But someone I once knew as a little girl," He eyed Amber. "small universe."

This man was Human, nothing could change that. No matter what you do, you're always Human. But he was without his mind; insane, mad, broken. I believed in redemption for someone; Morgan Toless was a prime example of what redemption could do. But this man, this savage was beyond the privilege of redemption. He had no mind of logical sense or understanding. All he cared about were his primitive, savage motives.

I fired my MA5B, send a round through Roras's head with the impact tearing the front of his head open, and the bullet splitting through the back of his head with brain and blood following bullet only to shatter and splatter across the wall behind him.

Roras fell back over Amber Wong, dead. I wasted no time in throwing my assault rifle down before I hurried over, pushed Roras's body off Wong, and checked her vitals.

No pulse. She likely went into shock, and died of blood loss. Roras really dug into her, so the pain must had rivaled that of what I felt while I was held captive by the Gravemind.

I started checking over the vitals of the doctors and Harvad. Two docs managed to survive, and Harvad made it as well. It was likely because Harvad engaged Roras in melee combat, and Roras didn't put any effort in killing him other then stab him with one of his many knives that he had on him. He was unconscious, though, and the bruising on his face and broken nose told me that Roras smashed his heel into Harvad's face. Harvad was lucky to be alive in my opinion.

I stabilized the docs and Harvad with Bio-foam and bandages before I went over to check Davis. "You okay, Corporal?" I asked him. It didn't look like Roras put any effort into killing Davis. Perhaps he found it arousing to have someone watch -I didn't know. All I knew is that Davis wouldn't come out of this with his usual joking personality intact.

"_Dang_," Davis muttered. "He- _he-_"

I heard footsteps and spun around with my M6D at the ready only to see the pilot standing in the entrance way, his eyes widened. "Who did this?"

"Roras. Don't ask me why as it's bad enough with just myself asking that."

"No. This wasn't done by a Human."

"Yes, _it was_." I emphasized.

"We have our own opinions," The pilot replied as he turned around and stuck his head around the corner to check the corridors to see in anyone was coming before concluding that it was safe and approached me. "I'm glad I let you go." He mustn't had seen Amber as he jumped back, gagging when he saw her.

"_What the?!_" He gagged, vomiting onto the ground.

"Again, Roras." I explained as I helped Davis to lean up in his bed.

"That confirms it," The pilot wheezed. "This wasn't a Humans work, but that of a monster." The pilot was quite young, and had a light black stubble going across his face. His skin was of average complexion, but it looked like he was Hispanic in nature, but his accent didn't back it up. Perhaps one of his parents was white. His eyes were normal and brown and his eyebrows were low. His lips were small and thin and his nose nice, thin and straight. He was good-looking for a male, but I couldn't really confirm if he got a lot of attention from the opposite sex as I wasn't in a position to judge. I also guessed that his hair was shaved to a buzz cut, but he was wearing a standard pilot cap so I couldn't see. He seemed... _very average _in appearance -a young pilot that would be lucky yo survive this war.

After analyzing the pilot and concluding that he was no danger -at the moment- I began checking Davis over. He was shell-shocked to say the least and would likely come across multiple mental problems because of this. Once I concluded that Davis was okay, I helped him out of the medical bay where I sat him against the wall before dragging the wounded out; they didn't need to see this once they woke up.

The pilot helped me move the unconscious bodies. "So, what's happening?" He asked.

"Lieutenant Dorhan's at the helm of a mutiny. It's a long story."

"I guess it's related the Captain finding out that you were kidnapped by ONI, and wants to go against them?" The pilot asked as we carefully placed one of the bodies down.

"Yeah. If you're loyal to the Captain, I recommend listening to me. But be warned, ONI may have you locked up for it. If you don't want that," I gestured to the corridor. "them I'm giving you _one chance _to leave."

The pilot sat down on the grated floor. "Once, back in UNSC space, the Cap was ordered to send all her Longsword pilots out to engage a formation of Seraphs so a ship could move in to take out a Corvette. It was a suicide mission, and FLEETCOM knew it. If we went out there... the Corvette would tear us apart. The Cap knew this, and refused to send us out there to die," He raised his head from looking at the ground to face me. "I'd be dead if not for your sister. What loyalty do I owe the higher-ups? I was expendable to them, and I will spend the rest of my life in a small box if means paying the Cap back."

I slightly grinned at his loyalty. "What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Will Gonzalez." I would had snapped a salute if I cared for UNSC regulations anymore. Instead, I nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well, Gonzalez, I need to get to the mess hall," I eyed the wounded. "Can you stay here and watch them?"

"I'll be arrested once the team Timmy has likely called upon arrives, but promise me you'll get me out once you succeed in kicking Dorhan's ass."

"I can't promise that we'll succeed, but if we do, I'll get you out myself." I gave Gonzalez a hand up.

"See you on the other side, then." He tapped my shoulder in a general military manner. A sign of respect for those with a careful eye for it.

"Will do." I nodded as I picked up my assault rifle that I bought out with the bodies, reloaded it, and sped back down the hall. As I suspected, Timmy sealed all the doors back.

But that wouldn't stop me.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Installation 06 Timeline.<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547 [1318 Hours] Human Military Calendar]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Installation 06]**

**[POV]****-****[Rhine Dorhan]**

* * *

><p>I studied Franti's face and eyes. His cold, sharp eyes betrayed his stoic composure, and showed sadness and remorse. But he didn't say a word, and simply shook his head as if dismissing the news as he took a seat on one of the moved couches.<p>

I was devastated; I had no idea Roras would take all this distraction to act on his own personal motives. But there was no indication; no signs that he was going to do what he did.

Good people died because I underestimated Fireteam Night, and that blood would remain on my hands until the day I die. How would that affect my family? How would they handle dealing with me when if I end up having post traumatic stress disorder? Would I ever see my family again?

I could think like that; I would see them again. It wasn't a case of me wanting to see them again... my wife's life hanged in the balance. She was already suffering from strong clinical depression, and me announcing my departure for a rotation of two years almost broke her, and she attempted to commit suicide. If I didn't return, she _would _end her life, and my daughter would be left an orphan. I couldn't allow that.

I turned around and calmly left the officer's lounge that we had secured with Fireteam Location following me.

Night was meant to ambush the Captain and the rest of the rebels, but I pulled them back after Timmy told me that the Gravemind was playing nice, and was giving Sierra-098 all the Intel he needed to undermine us and our efforts to detain them.

We had the Monarch with us as he wanted to follow Human protocol, and his Sentinels would assist us in detaining the rebels, but wouldn't harm them or allow harm to come on them. The Monarch also communicated with the Monitor over distance, and the Monitor has led his support with an attachment of Enforcers on their way while its Sentinels started patrolling the corridors.

We had the Captain within our grasp, but we just needed more time to close in on her and arrest her. I hoped that no more blood would be spilled, but Sierra-098 had already killed a Marine, so there was likely he would go further. Though, Timmy reassured me that Sierra-098 only killed the Marine in self-defense, but that didn't justify it. Still, I hoped it was the case because if it was, then Sierra-098 wasn't planning on gunning down every Marine he saw.

The Captain I was more worried about since no engagements had happened with her yet. But if one did, how would it play out? Why couldn't she just listen to me and stop this stupid shit she was doing?

Since Sierra-098 was separated from the rest of the rebels, there was no way he could warn them of our plans. There would be no way Sierra-098 would be able to reach the rest of the rebels and the Diverted before they got to the mess-hall, so I had all my nearby men prepare to ambush them once they arrived. The mess had been cleared out so unnecessary casualties wasn't a risk, but I was worried as a lot of the crew are now asking questions, and getting violent.

At least one thing was going according to plan, and that was the Hybrids remaining stationary in the brig which was good as I couldn't stress enough about what they would do if they chose a side and engaged the other. That's what made me worried about the Diverted. How would they play this out? Getting into a firefight with them in the middle could cause all kinds of grief. I concluded that the possibility of a firefight was too high, and the risks were also _too high_.

I placed my fingers onto my ear-piece. "Timmy, pull Hazard out of the mess-hall. We're gonna have to wait until we can separate the Diverted from the rebels before we can engage them."

"Affirmative." Timmy complied.

For an extra precaution, I had the Engineer detained as I still didn't know if it was loyal to us, the Monarch, or the Diverted. The Engineer's origin was still a mystery, and I wasn't going to take any chances.

"What's the plan? How're we going to do this?" Sergeant Major Edward 'Ship' Cruise, Fireteam Location's leader, asked me.

"We focus our attention on Sierra-098; if we can take him hostage, we might be able to negotiate with them." I answered.

"You hear that Timmy?" One of Location's members, Bruce 'Water' Fisher, asked Timmy over the secure COM we were linked to.

"Affirmative. Redirect all Fireteams to Sierra-098's location and detain him for negotiations with rebels and Diverted forces."

"Not all. Just Hazard, Embers and Ebony. Send about two dozen Sentinels as well. Night and Titan are to keep close to the rebels and Diverted while everyone else keeps the rest of the crew under a close eye." I corrected.

"Affirmative. Fireteam Hazard, Embers, Ebony and 24 Sentinels are to be redirected to intercept and capture Sierra-098. Fireteam Night and Titan are to keep within a close vicinity of the rebels and Diverted, and Fireteam Victory, Marshal, Glory, Vector, Missionary and the rest of the Sentinels are to keep the crew under control."

"That's right." I confirmed. I organized the new members of the 'mutiny' into Fireteams I made up on the spot. Human numbers in the 'mutiny' were still low, but the Sentinels made up for it, and I still hoped that we would get some more over to our side before shit hit the fan.

"Orders issued. What is your objective, Lieutenant?" Timmy asked me.

"I'm going to stick close to rebels and Diverted as well; I'll need to jump in ASAP once things get heated up."

"Affirmative. Updating navigation data to everyones' HUD-..." A few seconds past as Timmy did his AI magic. "...-done."

"Thanks." I smiled. Timmy was a convenient AI as he manage to go ahead and do stuff that I would had forgotten to mention myself. It was a shame that he was employed for ONI operations as his tactical advise and battle support for _actual_ military forces could be invaluable.

I heard Fireteam Night come up behind me. "Why do we get the boring work?" Franti complained as I heard his steps fall into my own pattern.

I let out an emotionless chuckle. "I'm not going to let your Fireteam off the hook again. For now on, there's going to be a short leash connecting you to me."

"Roras's actions do not reflect on out own," Franti growled. "We have more chance of taking the damn Spartan down then any stupid Marine has."

I let out a sharp sigh. "It _isn't_ going to happen, so just drop it."

"_WE AIN'T YOUR FUCKING PETS!_" Franti screamed behind me, making my ears burst into pain while also making me spin around while ears tightly as I gave him a look that said 'what the hell?!'

Franti placed his hand on his pistol, and Location raised their weapons while the rest of Night did the same. "_I've had enough shit from ONI_. What did they do? They saved us from execution for crimes _I DIDN'T COMMIT!_ That's the press, that's Humanity. I ain't gonna shed anymore blood for people who couldn't care less about my sacrifice!"

Anger flashed in my eyes. "You haven't got a choice!" I snapped at him.

"Typical ONI logic," Douglas growled. "thinking that they control everyone and everything," Douglas shook his head in annoyance.

"Not everyone!" I snapped at them. "Just you! Stop complaining, you could be worse off."

"Dead for crimes we didn't commit, you mean!" Morgan growled.

"Didn't commit? I agree, that was unfair. But _you _deserved to die."

"Yes, yes I do. But that'll be too easy on me."

I scoffed as I spun back around, signalling Location to continue with me at their rear. "Don't act like you're remorseful for what you are. Monsters don't have the brain capacity to show remorse. Now, get your asses into gear, and keep close to me."

"No." I heard Franti calmly but coldly reply, and I turned to face him again. I didn't like how this was going to turn out, but I was stubborn, and I wasn't going to let them win.

"Then none of you get your stupid IDs, and you _will_ get executed." I warned them.

"Fine by me," Franti shrugged. "but my boys don't like the idea."

"No one has to die," I reassured them. "Just _do as I tell you, for fucks' sake!_"

"No." Franti calmly replied. This was shaping up to be bad, but I wasn't going to let this pass.

I walked forward a bit. "Yes!"

Franti smiled. "You know, I'll be blunt and say that this ain't just me being _stubborn_. You fucked with one of my boys, so I'm not feeling so compliant anymore."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, excluding my panic; he didn't know what I think he knew, did he?

"I had the Monarch do some digging before it found out that it wasn't allowed to, and it told me some _nice _and _juicy _details relating to Wing here. He doesn't know yet, I wanted to leave it to a good moment to spring it."

"What do you mean?" Cylus questioned him. This was going to end bad, so I put my hand behind my back and silently signaled Location to be ready, it looked Night were preparing as well as both Douglas and Morgan looked like they were about to break out into a sprint.

"Rick, sorry I didn't tell you this sooner, but I think you'll agree that now's the better time-"

"Adam, what're you on about?"

"That Governor you assassinated, ONI was already planning on taking him out when you trotted along and did it for them. They were more than happy to shift the blame onto you to keep the public from finding out that their _lovely _Governor was corrupted. See how much your life means to ONI? _Nothing_ in the name of public image."

I almost let fear show on my face when Cylus's expression turned to one of rage and hate. But surprisingly, he smiled. "So, I was gonna die for ONI without their permission?" He began laughing when the rage suddenly returned and he raised his weapon. "NOBODY DOES AWAY WITH MY LIFE WITHOUT _MY _PERMISSION FIRST! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK ONI! AND FUCK _YOU_!"

Franti pulled out his Magnum, and I watched his armed hand _very carefully_. "Like I said, we're gonna sit this one out. Now, you're gonna go along with this, all we can all die _right here, right now_. What're you gonna choose, spook?"

This was the absolute last thing we needed; internal struggle would only bring us down. But my wife, Lisa, and Madison's face came to my eyes. I had to stop tears forming in the corners of my eyes; I wanted to see them more than anything in the world! I wanted to hold both my mentally challenged wife and my adorable daughter in my arms! I wanted to go home, that's all! But if I let Night go, then I'd be locked up by ONI for allowing traitors to go freely about their business. _I couldn't_ _win_!

I concluded that my chances were better in with Parangosky then they were here.

"Fine, do what you want. Just stay out-of-the-way." I gave in.

"That's the plan," Franti replied as he turned around and waved for the rest of Night to follow him back into the officer's lounge. "Sorry, Wing." He apologized to Cylus once they entered the officer's lounge. What else was said I couldn't hear, nor could I care to hear. I just turned around and signaled for Location to follow me as we continued to the rendezvous with Fireteam Titan.

I should had just shut up and sent them after the Spartan.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

I hope this doesn't need saying, but I'll emphasize that what Roras did was _not _what I just made up in my mind, but inspired by crap I've come across in my life in the media added to the messed up creativity of my mind. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not insane or anything.

I'm kinda worried that having all the 'villains'as just plain hated characters isn't really mature of me. But you need to know who's bad and who ain't. Vale Nar 'Sarasee can be considered a 'villain' to some extent, but he's not really into the whole genocide of the Human race, so he seems good, and he is good. But he is the 'villain' for the main characters aboard the _Kryptonite_. Careekius is also a 'villain' who would kill the main characters without mercy, but he's still a 'good person'.

There's no 'good' or 'evil' in my mind, just sides and morals. Roras and Pity have no morality, so they are in the wrong, but that doesn't make them '_bad guys_' it just makes them, IMO, more fleshed out as they're insane as insane people, or aliens, can get. They don't do what they do because it's just them being 'bad'or '_evil_', they do what they do because they have mental disorders. While I have no idea what mental disorders they have, I can say that it's definitely that. Though, Pity's more arrogant and stupid than insane. I'm not gonna make these characters like Joffery Baratheon where they're just assholes without much explanation (abomination of incest may be a responsible explanation) these characters have dark pasts behind them Even Pity will be fleshed out so you know how he became so annoying, and as I'll also explain a bit with Roras as well, though researching the motives behind why these people do what they do may take some time and put a disturbing amount of disturbing info into my head. God, why did I make up such bad characters?!


	33. Defiance: Part Two

_I do not regret the death and pain I have inflicted upon the Human race over the many years. What I do regret is that I did it under the wrong reasons._

_Death is all I wish upon each member of their race, and I only help them out of my desire to save my own kin. But after my race is safe, there will be nothing stopping me from attempting to bring about the destruction of their pathetic race._

_I have lived a lie my entire life; fighting for a false motive for a false Covenant. I can no longer tolerate weakness and insolence._

_I must stand idle while the ways of my enemy persist to cause me anguish to save myself and my race. But I will never accept Humanity as a 'people' for they are no more than advanced savages with no honor and courage; even now, they fight each other at a time of great peril, and I must cease it._

_There are Humans who say they would give their life for their families and their race. But would they really? If the time came when they may have to, could they lay down their pathetic life for such a cause? They may, but that does not make them honorable; only but foolish. They think that dying for their family or race or religion is honorable, it is not._

_There is no honor in dying for something you believe in as that something is false; everything is false. You die and your family eventually forgets you and moves on, you die and your race only list you among the deceased before forgetting you. Your sacrifice is never remembered unless it is big enough to bring hope to your race. If you die bringing a grand victory, that death will be used for propaganda, nothing more. That is the value of life._

_Dying does not do anything other than end your struggle against your foe. Dying is and easy way to end a war. Death is the only end to war._

_I once thought I could respect Humans for being more than cowards with twisted motives. But I was mistaken when I realized that the only Humans I could ever respect are but illusions._

_I could rest easily knowing that my alliance with the Humans was only but temporarily, and that I would soon stand over the dead corpses of thousands of their pathetic race with the taste of victory against the weak in my mind._

_Better yet, I would stand over the corpse of the Demon for I would not fail to kill one again._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Installation 06 Timeline.<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547 [1323 Hours] Human Military Calendar]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, Non-Designated Corridor, Outside Mess-Hall, Installation 06]**

**[POV]****-****[Thel 'Lodam]**

* * *

><p>Leaning against the primitive Human wall, carbine in hands and ready to peer out of cover if I had to, I realized that I should had not heeded the Human Captain's words, and just simply go after the Demon as was my initial plans.<p>

Not a moment after the Demon left us to chase the absent-minded Human, I remembered why I was there: To protect the Demon so I had the chance to personally kill him later. Yet, I let the Demon chase after danger; a moment of foolishness from me. But as I was preparing to redeem my lackluster mind, and chase after the Demon, the Human Captain managed to convince me that the Demon would meet up with us at the 'mess', and that going after him would be a waste of time on my part.

I despised and hated many things. But there were also things that annoyed me. One such thing was wasting time. I also wanted to speak to the Monarch as soon as possible, so I would have to sacrifice this as well if I went after the Demon. Ultimately, I decided to stay with the Human Captain and her group, and continue to the 'mess' where we would regroup with the Demon.

Again, my mind failed me, and I did not ask the Human Captain _when _we actually planned to regroup with the Demon. Was he just meant to know instinctively to regroup with us at the 'mess'? Not long after setting out to continue the traversal with the Humans, I asked the Human Captain this. Her answer sounded foolish, but was annoyingly true.

The Demon could _see _into our minds, and figure out our plan.

While this did help answer my questions, it did not help quell the possibility that something may happen on the Demon's side, and regrouping with us may had been impossible. Unfortunately, communications between the Humans was impossible as the Associated Intelligence had control over _every _communication device they had.

Humans were fools to put so much trust into one with no morality. And if the effect it had on the Humans was already not inconvenient enough on my part, now my own goals were at risk over it.

We were being pursued by both Sentinels and Humans. And directly in the way of the sealed door we needed to go through to reach the 'mess', there was at least two dozen Sentinels. These had to be the Monitor's Sentinels, so they were not outfitted with the special weaponry that the Monarch's Sentinels had, and could only use their laser beams that could bring my and the rest of my Sangheili brother's shields down quicker than pleasing, and leave us vulnerable to a killing blow, or any weapons of in-capitation that the Human Opposition forces may have been equipped with.

I peered slightly further out of my cover to see the Sentinels. They were all facing our way, knowing where we were; I would had been surprised if they did not know where we were. I knew they could attack me and my Diverted if they had to in order to defend Human lives, but I also knew that the Human Opposition Leader would had ordered them not to under any circumstances as engaging us could yield serious diplomatic consequences.

My analysis to see if we could bypass the Sentinels yielded no results, so I turned back around to see all of my warriors and the Humans facing me. Most of them were still in formation while Humans like Keyes and the Captain were in front of the group, either leaning against the wall to our right -the one I was peering out from behind- or crouching on the ground. Most of my Diverted broke off from the formation as well with my Sangheili brothers just to my side while Kri remained back with the Human Captain and Keyes. They were all waiting for an answer. I did not disappoint. "I see twenty-six Sentinels, but they are the Monitor's, so they cannot attack us without bringing about harm."

"Then why don't we just take them out?" Keyes asked.

"They're daring us, Lynda, they _want _us to attack them." The Human Captain answered. She was wrong.

"Incorrect. They _do not_ want us to attack, and believe we shall not out of the speculation that they do."

"Then what're we waiting for?" Keyes asked as she checked her Human rifle.

I grunted in annoyance at the Humans ignorance "Do you so desire to explain to the Monitor why we destroyed so many of its Sentinels when we could easily bypass them by more unconventional means?"

"I _don't_ think we're cutting around this." The Captain remarked.

I narrowed my eyes while cocking my head in confusion. "Explain."

the Captain redirected her gaze from behind me to me, her cold, disgusting eyes on me. There was no mistaking the hatred in her eyes for hatred of me. "Why else would they put the Sentinels there if that isn't the only way we can go?"

I clicked my mandibles in annoyance; were Humans so foolish? "Slowing us down can yield great beneficial results. One such result is keeping us stationary until the Opposition forces arrive."

"Whatever. I just think that we ain't cutting past them as easily as you'd like." She gave in with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes, but clicked my mandibles in annoyance to show my irritation as I reached for my energy sword. "Your words have no merit nor logic. Deprive from speaking them again." I grabbed my energy sword and activated it. To my irritation, nothing happened but static filling my mind as electrical sparkles erupted from where my blade should had appeared

Freyn grabbed his sword and attempted to activate it, but the same results ensued. Getting increasingly agitated, I deactivated my shields only to have static erupt as my shields were apparently _already _deactivated. Wondering why my interface had not told me, I began examining it to realize that it seemed to be... _still_. I then realized that my interface was that of a placeholder, and that my armor's systems seemed down as well as my blade.

"What is this?" I mused as I removed the cables connecting my helmet to my armor before removing my helmet itself with a hiss filling my mind. Inspecting my helmet, I saw Freyn, Anve and Suras do the same while both the Captain and Keyes looked at us with mocking looks on their face. Some Human warriors even expressed their amusement verbally.

"Looks like the Sentinels have some type of jamming device." A Human warrior by the name of 'Parker' stated in order to annoy me with my me and Keyes snapping our heads to face him. I wanted to kill him when I saw the smirk on his face.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Keyes lightly growled as she moved out of formation and pushed past me to take a turn at inspecting the Sentinels.

It was highly possible that there _was _some type of energy jamming device, so I ceased examining my helmet and put it back on, reconnecting the cables before sheathing my blade. Freyn did the same as Kri activated his point defense gauntlet to find that it was not working as well.

"Ma'am, anything?" The Human White asked Keyes.

"Can't see anything other than the Sentinels." She replied.

"It's likely behind the door the Sentinels are guarding." The Captain suggested.

"Yeah, I'd say that as well 'less it's long-range or something." Keyes agreed.

Kri pulled out his plasma pistol, and I watched as he began inspecting it. There was no glowing green light to indicate its battery status. Curious, I pulled my carbine off of my back to find that it was also not working despite it having no battery feed system. This must had been because pretty much all weaponry for the Covenant required a working system to fire. This mirrored the inconvenience of the Human Associated Intelligence as _we too _relied too heavily on technology. At least the Human weaponry would still work.

"If it is long-range, than it has just come into working effect." Anve remarked as he holstered his plasma rifle. I sensed the irritation in his tone; the thought of using Human weapons was a dire one.

"Ma'am," The Human named 'Herald' broke in before anyone could reply to Anve. "Our systems are down as well. HUD's not showing the Sentinels, weapon stats not changing as we switch weapons; you name it."

"At least we can still shoot things." Parker jested.

"Oh yeah! That's all that matters!" Keyes jest -I, at least, hoped she was jesting.

My patience for the Humans not taking the situation serious had reached its end, and I wanted this to end. I approached the Captain who seemed amused by Keyes jest before snapping my mandibles at her which made a few of the warriors near her jump back and raise their weapons. "End this farce, _now_! Surrender!"

The Captain shook her head. "That's not an option."

I gritted my mandibles so hard that it was impossible for the Humans not to have heard my teeth grinding together. "You would put the lives of your warriors at such a risk for _revenge_?! Revenge is a reward, _not_ a goal! To see it as the latter will blind you!"

The Captain got up from her crouched position, defiance in her eyes. "Why the hell are you making the assumption that I'm not surrendering over _fucking_ _revenge_? You don't know me, so don't fucking assume shit you don't know jack-all about."

My translating software must had been malfunctioning as all I heard was 'Why in Oblivion are you making the assumption that I am not surrendering over mating revenge? You do not know me, so do not mating assume manure you do not know anything about'. I quickly realized that this was not a malfunction, and that the Huragok left out some minor words in the Human language that seemed less minor for the Captain.

"Then why do you persist?" I questioned her, standing up as straight as I could in an attempt to intimidate her.

"Because surrendering ain't an option for any of us, as I _just_ _said_!"

I cocked my eyes in disbelief. "Do tell; I would like to hear this."

"Oh, so you'll listen _now_? That's new since listening seems to be a foreign-"

"Get on with it!" I growled at her.

She holstered her pistol, reassuring me to my irritation that we may be idle for some time. "Okay, we have this secretive Government funded group that serves as our intelligence gathering and espionage branch called 'ONI'. I can't find anything to compare it to in your Covenant as Intel on your society is limited-"

"They are not _my _Covenant." I growled.

She continued on as if I did not speak. "-and mostly classified. But all you need to know is that these people only care for _themselves_, and when they _have_ to care for Humanity, they'll do _anything _to save Humanity. 'Anything' includes kidnapping my brother as a kid and turning him into a mindless soldier. Now, as per them being secretive, I only just found out about this when I saw him again. And as you may had guessed, I'm pretty pissed-"

"I did not guess."

Again, she ignored my words. "-off about this, and want revenge when I can get it -a reward, like you said. But sadly for me, I said and did a lot of things that have been recorded by this ship's AI, and will likely piss off the leader of ONI when she hears it."

The Captain took a deep breath as she continued. "Unfortunately for me, the leader of ONI is the most dangerous Human in existence, and grown men fear her more than your Covenant at times-"

"Not _my _Covenant!" I emphasized to no immediate avail.

"-and has probably had more Humans killed than your existing Prophets have had members of any race from the Covenant has-" I grinned at her ignorance; she had no idea. "-Now, if executing simple war criminals and the likes ain't enough for her, she always, _always _executes _anyone _who crosses her. Now I've crossed her, so if I return to _Earth _in shackles, I'm as good as dead; Keyes too. My crew will likely be locked up for the rest of their lives because they know stuff ONI doesn't want the public knowing; even the mutineers will be locked up for knowing too much."

The Captain took another deep breath. "If you still don't get it, let me summarize it for you: Me and my crew surrendering will only get us killed where's as going straight to our Navy command may get us protection, or remaining in control of this ship and all the Intel it has may give us a bargaining chip. Do you get it now, 'Lodam? The Covenant ain't the only society that likes to kill people over bullshit."

I simply nodded in acknowledgement. While I could not care for the Humans lives, I could understand their reasons. But I was without sympathy for them, so I was not going to stand by while the life of the Demon was in danger of being stolen from me.

"You do what you have to. But if I cannot get into this 'mess' here, I will try another way." I explained.

"There _is_ no other way." The Captain stressed.

"Wrong words. I mean to find and protect the Demon." I corrected myself as I turned around and waved for my Diverted to regroup on me.

"'Lodam, wait." The Captain halted me, panic in her voice. She needed me when there was no reason for it to be so. Even so, I snaked my head back around with my body following to face the Captain.

"What?"

She looked around nervously. "Okay," She sighed. "here it goes. If you tell ONI that you won't comply with them unless we're treated fairly, I'll surrender."

I had to hold in a laugh, but I did click my mandibles together in unison out of amusement. "Have I released the wrong messages? Have I stated anywhere that I care for your lives? No. I care not for your lives; in fact, I would very much enjoy it if you would die as you do not deserve the gift of life."

Hate no longer lingered in the Captain's eyes only, and showed across her entire face. "Go then. My brother would've heard this, and he'll likely to kill you. But you know what? I don't care. We have the Monarch, so we don't need you."

I could not contain my amusement at the Human's ignorance, and I parted my mandibles and let out a laugh followed by Anve and Freyn doing the same. Kri and the Unggoy also joined in which surprised me, but they were not foolish enough to just 'laugh along' so they understood the foolishness in the Human's comment, and found it just as amusing. A keen reminder that almost all the Unggoy and Kig-Yar of the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion wereelite warriors worthy of the Great Journey. Unfortunately, the Great Journey did not exist.

"_You do not need_ _us_?!" I laughed. "How do you intend to inform my race about the San 'Shyuum's betrayal and end the war? We are your bargaining chip against the fake Covenant!"

The Captain let out a smile, and I was eager to hear her pitiful excuse. "We don't need to break the Covenant apart from the inside; we have the Monarch that in turn has access to the coordinates of _every_ Forerunner artifact, piece of tech and Halo in the galaxy. As soon as we get back with the Monarch, it won't be long until Humanity has an arsenal of Forerunner weapons of mass destruction."

"You think I will fall for such threats?" I questioned her.

"Little do you know that our initial mission and overall reason for coming to this ring was for recon and to retrieve Red. Saving you's was just a secondary objective to minimize casualties. But as I said: In the end, ONI doesn't really care about casualties; in the end, they'd rather have a justified reason to wipe every race of _your _damn Covenant out."

Anve, Freyn, Suras and Kri prepared for a possible fight, readying to attack the Humans with their claws if they had to. The Unggoy quickly gathered on, and prepared as well. If a fight did begin, we would likely all die. But not before killing as many of these damn Humans as we could.

"So be it," I shuddered my neck as I mused before glancing at my Diverted. "And as _I _said: Vengeance is a reward, The death of your Demon means little to me now that my race is in danger from your scheming. Me and my men, we are going to assist the Opposition; I advise you let us leave unless you desire to lose many lives of your comrades."

"You don't get it, do you? ONI ain't gonna let this slide. Yeah, granted, they'll help you out if you return to _Earth _with them, but _only _for the added bonus of the Covenant destroying itself. What remains will be easily mopped up by us; Elites, Grunts, Jackals, Brutes; it doesn't matter. ONI's leader doesn't let anyone who has crossed her live, and nobody has crossed her more than your Covenant."

I let out a chuckle as I pushed past her. "Thank you for the warning."

I let out a growl to order my warriors to move out, and they all turned around and made their way back the way we came, turning a corner of a corridor, heading towards where the Opposition forces were located.

"'Lodam!" I turned around to face the Human Captain, to hear her last words. "If I ever see you again, I'll kill you."

I grinned under my helmet. "Likewise." With the conclusion drawn, I craned my head back around and followed after my Diverted, the sound of my armored hoofs grinding against the grated ground in my mind as I moved on.

I had no regrets with my decision, but I knew my Diverted were reminiscent on it as not a word was spoken on our short journey to meet up with the Opposition forces.

We only had to go through a single Human junction and another couple of corridors before we came upon the junction that the Human named 'Dorhan' and his Opposition forces were holding up at.

Dorhan greeted us with no hostility, and immediately signaled for his warriors to lower the weapons they raised upon our appearance. "Timmy informed me," Dorhan stated as he holstered his pistol. "Look, I'm really sorry you had to be dragged into this."

I marched closer to him, making a few of the Opposition warriors back away and ready themselves if I turned out to be a threat. Dorhan remained stoic as I looked down on him. "If you really desire my forgiveness, act now and end this farce! It is both a waste of your time and mine, and more important tasks need to be dealt with."

Dorhan shook his head. "I've got a plan-"

"_Then_ act on it!"

"Wait until I explain the plan first!"

"Forget it," I gestured for him to stop. "Me and my Diverted are going to remain out of this farce."

"Don't go back to the lounge- wait,"

"What?" I questioned him.

"Are you heading back to the lounge?"

I slightly cocked my head in both annoyance and confusion. "Yes. Why?"

"It's being occupied by a Fireteam of ours." He explained.

I let out a low growl. "Then I shall remove them!"

Dorhan slightly smiled, but there was no good emotion in the smile. "I was hoping you would say that."

I was about to ask what he meant when I halted, twitching my mandibles together in confusion. Musing did not bring about answers, so I asked: "Why?"

"They refused to follow orders, and add to that the fact that they're insane convicts that ONI decided to hire." He explained, and I did not hide my annoyance.

"When was it said that I was your Justiciar?" I growled.

"You don't _have to _deal with them, but if you want the lounge to yourself, I'm just telling you that you're free to do what you want."

"I would rather find another safe-hold then do something for your benefit."

Dorhan redirected his gaze to look past me, musing for a few mini-moments before he turned his gaze back to me. "The brig's you best chance if you want to stay out of this."

"With the Hybrids." I remarked, not questioned.

"You haven't got a problem that?"

I shook my head. "Company of the wise may be the refreshment me and my warriors need to stray from out thoughts on killing you. Even now, I would like nothing more than to cut you open."

Dorhan redirected his gaze again. The dim lighting of the corridor reflected off of the side of his head which allowed me to see his eyes which in turn showed what appeared to be shame as he mused for about five mini-moments before he turned his head back to face me. "I suppose you're pissed about what the Captain told you."

I hissed as I remained physically composed. "So, it _is _true!"

"I'm not in the liberty to say anything-"

"I have a right to know!" I snapped at him, drool pooling from my mandibles as I got more and more agitated.

"Yes, I agree, you do. But if I tell you anything, I'll likely be executed, and that's not an option for me."

I shuddered my neck while also cocking my head, followed by me letting out a long, annoyed growl. "You _cannot _be executed for plans not already set in motion! Being executed for speaking of what _may _or _may not _happen is absurd!"

"And you Prophets ordering the execution of your Commanders over simple battle mistakes isn't?"

I was not alone when I let out a hiss with both Anve and Freyn growling their disapproval. "They are not _my _Prophets! And what they have done in the name of 'justice' can only be considered by me as pathetically misusing their power over us." I took a step forward. "My eyes have been opened; I am _no _longer blind. I know the faults of the fake Covenant, and I know I was a fool. But these _constant reminders _only serve to make me want to rip your throat out _more and more_!"

Remorse appeared in Dorhan's eyes. "I didn't mean to remind you-" He put his hand up, telling me to wait while he touched his ear with his other hand. "You sure? Okay, great, that's excellent news."

He lowered his hand and I asked him: "What has happened."

Relief seemed to be in Dorhan's eyes. Had the Captain surrendered after all? Had the Monitor and Monarch agreed to use lethal force on the Captain and her warriors? Thinking about these, I did not just simple wait for the Human to tell me. "My plan's coming into effect. This will hopefully be over soon."

"What plan?" I questioned him.

"We managed to capture the Spartan."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Installation 06 Timeline.<strong>

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547 [1347 Hours] Human Military Calendar]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, Non-Designated Corridor Junction On-Route To Mess-Hall, Installation 06]**

**[POV]****-****[Red Jsarez]**

* * *

><p>Underestimating your foe was the worst mistake you could make. Dorhan made this mistake, and 'Lodam knew it, that's why he left instead of remaining to see me on my knees; he knew my plan; knew what would happen if he remained.<p>

I was walking in a straight line, hands shackled, surrounded by mutineers. Up ahead was Dorhan who stood stoically still as I was bought before him. Did he seriously think that capturing me was as simple as I made it out to be? I may had been surrounded by three different Fireteams and two dozen Sentinels, but it wouldn't be so if it wasn't in my plan.

A Marine behind me placed his hand on my shoulder to make me stop directly in front of Dorhan. "Glad you had the sense to surrender."

"Yeah, well, I figured dying so soon will kinda ruin the point of me being a Spartan."

Dorhan let the slightest of grins appear on his face. "Hopefully, nobody's going to die."

I let out a sigh. "I just wish my sister could see that."

"Huh?"

"You're right about Parangosky being merciful-" No he wasn't. "-The Gravemind's told me a lot, and has come to the conclusion that my sister's got all the facts wrong."

Dorhan let out an annoyed sigh. "I kept telling her that but she _wouldn't_ _listen_."

I chuckled slightly. "She's stubborn. Kinda like me, but more... It's probably a female thing."

Dorhan let out a slight laugh. "My wife in a nutshell. Shit, Sierra, I'm really sorry about all this-"

"It's okay, it's fine. Just let me talk to my sister so this can end; She'll listen to me, not you."

Dorhan nodded. "Ebony, Hazard, go back around and help out Vector, Glory and the others with keeping the crew under control; take the Sentinels with you. This shouldn't take long."

"Yes, sir." The Fireteam's leaders said in unison, and I heard the clattering of feet on metal as the ten or so Marines behind me hurried back down the corridor. So far, so good.

"Embers, you're with me and Titan. The Captain won't attack us while we have Sierra here with us, so you can relax." Apparently Dorhan was oblivious to basic military protocols; never remain at ease in a potential hostile situation. I understood this as he's never really been in the field before, but it nevertheless helped me out more.

Dorhan inspected me for a moment as the members of Fireteam Titan moved ahead to secure the area. "Becker, remove Sierra's restraints." I remained stoic as the Marine removed my shackles. As as I no longer felt the Marine's hands near mine, I bought them in front of me and began rubbing my wrists.

"Come on, let's go talk to your sister." Dorhan gestured for me to follow, turned around, and followed after Embers with me and the members of Fireteam Titan following closely behind. Not another word was spoken until we turned around the corner to see Nai and the other Marines with all of them spinning around to face us, weapons raised.

"Red?" She quietly asked, "How?"

"Just listen to the Lieutenant, Nai, please." I pleaded, and much to my pleasure, Dorhan moved in front of me to explain. With his back to me, I wasted no time in slinging my arm around his neck before pulling his pistol out of his holster and holding it to his head, spinning around to face the members of Titan and Embers who had their weapons raised.

"White, the Sentinels drop their lasers when they're destroys as a support mechanism." White wasted no time in getting my meaning, and shot one of the twenty-four or so Sentinels above him and the others, taking down its shields before taking the actual thing itself down to have it come crashing next to him and explode. As the Gravemind said, the other Sentinels didn't react. _(Doubted me, did you? Perhaps a mutual trust can be gained in situations like this) _That would not be possible as the Gravemind still played his tricks. When Roras was about to shoot at us while 'Lodam was cutting through the door, the Gravemind did nothing to warn us as Roras was initially aiming for Tulnai, but missed and changed his tactics to shoot at us all. With my life not in danger, the Gravemind thought just to remain silent and let a Marine die. This proved to be a mistake on his part as he couldn't predict Roras immediately changing his tactics unexpectedly, and putting my life at risk. _(Would you reconsider if I told you that I would not attempt such an action again?) _I wouldn't.

White scavenged through the debris of the Sentinel, coming across the large laser that he picked up. It took him a few seconds to find out how to fire it, but once he did, he turned around and began firing the laser at the door to carve us an escape. The Forerunner's weren't foolish enough to jam their own weapons with their jamming technology, so this came in handy. It also came in handy that Sentinels would drop their laser beam weapons when their destruction was imminent to provide firearm support to Forerunner foot soldiers in combat in case they ran out of ammo.

"Sierra, don't do this; I thought we had an understanding?!" Dorhan pleaded as I backed away from the mutineers.

"You underestimated me just like you underestimated Parangosky," As I backed away, the mutineers began to move closer. "Tell to stop or I'll neutralize you."

Dorhan let out a grunt in reply as he thought about it.

"Come on, think of your daughter and wife, I'll make sure you see them again, I promise."

I heard Dorhan's breathing get heavier as he began panicking. "No, you don't understand, Sierra, Parangosky will have me executed if I let you go."

"And _I'll_ kill you if you order your men to attack." I warned him.

"No, you won't. You know the outcomes of me dying and what will happen. You won't inflict the same pain that your own sister had." Dorhan replied, and before he could tell his men to open fire, I heard White kicking the door he carved out down, and I quickly spun around and followed them through the makeshift doorway and into the mess-hall, Dorhan still in front of me with a pistol to his head.

I was the third last to go through and it was when I was going through that Dorhan yelled for them to open fire which was followed with a hail of rounds that cut down the two Marines behind me and nicked me as I flung around into cover on the edge of the doorway, tightening my grab on Dorhan in case he would use this as a chance to escape.

"Shit!" Nai exclaimed as she grabbed her back, and that indicated where I was hit. White came up and took cover on the edge of the doorway opposite me, and reassured me that he wasn't hit. _(Let me clear you conscious. George Parker and Nancy Herald are the dead ones)_

I let that sink over before shaking my head to get rid of the thought. I saw that everyone had managed to get into cover either next to me and White. Not wanting to have to move out-of-the-way so Freud -who was next to me- could take my place and help White out with taking down the mutineers, and potentially risking his life, while also wanting to keep the point I made, I fired my M6D, splattering Dorhan's brains over my face before I let his body fall out of my arms and hit the ground. I wiped the blood off of my face as I grabbed the assault rifle that was being handed to me by Freud.

Before either me and White could lean out arms out of cover and blindly fire as peering out of cover would get us killed, the Sentinels that were 'guarding' the door we just cut through came down and blocked up the doorway, taking all the bullets of the mutineers. If they were trying to protect us, they failed because the mutineers didn't stop, and in the end, their shields gave away. All that remained of the Sentinels was a huge pile of Forerunner metal stacked up on each other that in turn was stacked up on the bodies of Herald and Parker.

With the Sentinels out-of-the-way, I leaned Freud's assault rifle out of cover and began firing at anything. Despite me not seeing what I was shooting at, I heard the cries of Marines as they were shot along with their bodies hitting the ground. I wouldn't be able to hear such sounds over the gunfire if it wasn't for my Spartan augments and the enhancements that the Gravemind gave me.

There was about five screams before the gunfire of the mutineers ended about a minute later. Curious, I peered out of cover to see the remainders of the two Fireteams retreating back around the corridor corner, leaving behind five Marines that I immediately judged to be dead.

"They're gone." I informed everyone as I turned around to face Freud, handing him back his assault rifle.

Hearing this, Lynda rushed forward and began pushing the Sentinel debris off of the bodies of Parker and Herald before checking their vitals. "Fucking cocksucking... FUCK! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

Nai tried to walk over to comfort Lynda but stopped after grunting in pain. It was hard for me to stand the pain and I had augments that reduced the pain I felt, so it would be even harder for her to resist it.

"Ma'am, permission to go after those fucking bastards!" Lynda requested. I heard the emotion in her voice; she may not had acted it, but she was close to these two. But vengeance would not bring them back, and killing those Marines wasn't a very sound idea when you took their motives into consideration.

"They're just doing what they need to do to see their families again." I reminded her.

"So was Dorhan," She stated as she got up. "But that didn't stop you from just... _killing _him like it was nothing, and he could still been of use, and you just _killed_ him!"

"Dorhan would no longer assist us if I kept him alive; he would think that I wouldn't keep my word. To reinforce that I always keep my word, I killed him _as _I warned I would. Killing these Marines will do nothing but slow us down." I explained.

Lynda tucked the dog-tags that I missed her taking from the bodies into one of her pockets on her fatigues. "Whatever." She shrugged, giving up and walking over to Nai who was being helped by Gray and White over to a table's bench to sit down while the doctors that were with us went over to tend to her. Despite the fact there were civilians with us, Dorhan still told his men to fire.

Pain was flaring in my back, so the thought quickly went away to be replaced with nothing but a white, hot pain flooding through my head. To reduce the pain she felt, it would be better if I just remained still. But if I did, no one would be able to tend to me as I had my back to the wall.

I started moving forward and felt bad as Nai began hissing in pain with each step I took. I began to quicken my pace, but that only increased the pain, but I decided getting there quicker to get the pain over with was better than just walking slowly. It was like getting into cold water; it was better to just jump in and get it over with rather than slowly get in. Well, as far as I knew, only males did this as once the water reached _that _height, it was almost impossible to get in any further.

I quickly reached the bench and leaned over the table. One of the doctors with us immediately took this opportunity and lifted my shirt up to check my back. Both me and Nai hissed and grunted in pain as the doctor pulled the shirt up. If the pain wasn't bad enough, my shirt was sticking to my wound, so it was making it _a lot _harder to remove the shirt.

"Did you stop Roras?" White asked, trying to take my mind of the pain. Unknown to him, it was just bringing about more pain.

"Not after he murdered a lot of doctors in the medical bay, stabbed Harvad and cut Wong open from the genital while Davis was forced to watch in horror."

"_What?!_" White and Lynda exclaimed at the same time.

"I wish I was wrong," I said with an added hiss at the pain. "I really do, but I'm never wrong. Roras... he must had found some type of sexual arousal in what he did or something."

"Is she-"

I didn't let Lynda finish. "Dead, yeah. She went into shock after losing too much blood and fell unconscious. I think she died not long after that. It was a painful death that nobody deserves. I might had been able to save her if I wasn't held up by some mutineers."

"Jesus, Red." Nai softly said in sadness.

"What about Davis? Harvad? Who died?" Lynda began questioning.

"Is Roras dead?" Gray added.

"Davis is fine, messed up, but fine. Harvad also managed to survive, and should live as well. Klyn's dead along with a Marine named Rick Miles who was gunned down by Roras in the corridor leading up to the medical bay. Doctor Bridget Tarras, Eugene Colvic, Jesse Mando and Lisa Brettins are dead. But doctor Sam Mez and Charles Kain managed to survive."

I heard the doctor tending to my back let out a deep, sad sigh while one of the doctors near Nai broke off from tending to her and sat on a nearby bench where he began to tear up.

White let out a deep sigh as well. "The survivors-"

"A pilot I came across helped me. He said he would stay with the wounded until Dorhan's men arrived. The wounded are currently in a stable state, and the pilot has been arrested and detained-" I raised my head from looking down at the table I was leaning over to look over at the bench across from me that Nai was seated at. "-he said he owed you because you saved his life while also disobeying orders."

"Was he a Longsword pilot?" She asked.

"Yeah." I confirmed.

"Damn, I knew disobeying those stupid fucking orders would pay-off one day."

"And Roras?" White asked.

"Dead." I replied indifferently.

"He didn't give you trouble, did he." Nai stated, not questioned.

I accidentally nodded, sending pain down my back. "I killed him in cold blood."

"You did the right thing-"

I broke in before Nai could finish. "I also killed one of the mutineers that held me up. He- it was either me or him-"

White came over and placed a hand on my shoulder, carefully, though. "There's no justification in taking a life. You just... do what you have to do at the time whether it be for the better or for the worst. But once you start thinking that by taking a life, you helped Humanity in some way... that's when you begin to hate your enemy."

I closed my eyes, musing. "The Marine was young, had a family, and just wanted to see his wife again. What do I have to live for?"

"Red!" Nai snapped at me, but keeping her voice calm.

"Don't think like that," White told me. "because if you do... you won't be able to pull the trigger next time."

"A Sangheili soldier is most likely young, has a loving family and a reason to fight," Freud added from where he was seated, still aiming his assault rifle at the makeshift doorway in case the mutineers came back and the Gravemind didn't warn me. "To them, killing us is the right thing. It's the same with the Insurrectionists, as well, Sierra, they aren't machines you're killing, but soldiers fighting for what they believe is right. But in a combat situation, you need to put all this aside, and kill like your enemy mean nothing to the world and have nothing to live for."

I narrowed my eyes as I thought on that. While I did, I saw the demonic creature in a corner on the other side of the room. It smiled its demonic smile at me, but I simply ignored it. "But haven't I sinned under the eyes of God or something like that? If hell _does_ exist, ain't I not going there."

Freud shook his head. "You know what you did was the right thing to do at the time, but is also wrong; you know that taking a life is wrong. You don't need a priest to forgive you in God's name as God sees all. In the end, we all do to hell anyway because there's not a single kid that hasn't told a lie when he's in trouble, and being scolded by his mother, so don't worry about if you feel you must; you're condemned anyway."

I chuckled at that and instantly regretted it as pain surged through my back. "Hang on, sir," The doctor patted my shoulder in a reassuring and friendly matter. "Almost done. Just be thankful that they installed medkits in the mess; _I_ sure am."

I felt a needle go into my wound, and pain flared, almost making me blind with the white flash before I began feeling the bullet slowly be pushed put by the bio-foam the doctor injected into me. I grunted as the bullet was pushed out, but Nai didn't have the pain resistance that I had, and began yelling. As soon as the bullet was out, another needle was injected into me, and the pain immediately died down. "There we are. Now just got to bandage you up, sir, sorry about this." _(Humans are weak)_

Nai stopped yelling, and began slowly taking long breaths to recover the breath she lost while yelling. "Still not as bad as being mind-fucked by the Gravemind." She joked.

"You never were." I corrected her.

"Sir, can you hop up on the table?" The doctor asked me. Nodding, I got up from leaning over the table and climbed up on it until I was seated with my legs hanging over the edge. "Thanks, sir." The doctor nodded as he began bandaging me up.

Examining the area, White grabbed the Sentinel laser beam off of his back and walked over to Nai who was now standing up fine, and was talking with Lynda. "So, where to next, ma'am?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. But we can't stay here much longer; those Marines will be back with their buddies, and they'll be pissed at us." Nai answered.

"With Dorhan dead, the mutineers have no way of properly coordinating, so we should exploit this." I suggested.

"Nah, there's still Timmy." White pointed out.

_(The Huragok can manipulate the Ancilla's code) _"Right," I clapped my hands to grab everyone's attention. "Gravemind just made a suggestion-"

Nai put her hand up to stop me. "Red, wait, Timmy can still hear us, remember?"

"Okay..." I rubbed my head in thought. "how're we gonna do this?" _(I can speak in her mind) _I quickly spoke up before anyone could reply. "Nai, don't panic, but you're about to hear the Gravemind's voice in your head."

Nai let out a sigh. "He better be nice to me." _(Humanity's resistance to verbal assault is too low. I prefer this)_

Nai shuddered as she heard the Gravemind's demonic voice. "That's a good idea. Yeah, yeah, okay, you go do that, the rest of us will get help from the rest of the crew. Uh... Where're they being held?"

"They're confined to the barracks as per Dorhan's orders."

Nai nodded. "We'll head there."

"Be careful, Nai, there's a lot of Sentinels and mutineers around, and they'll know you're coming." I warned her as I eyed around the room to indicate Timmy.

"Don't worry, we have it handled." She reassured me.

"All done." The doctor told me and I quickly hopped off of the table and grabbed my blood soaked shirt and put it back on before turning to give Nai one final reassuring nod before turning back around, picking up a laser beam one of the destroyed Sentinels dropped, walked over Herald and Parker's corpses while also picking up a MA5B one of them dropped when they were gunned down, and continued down the corridor.

I hoped that by the time Timmy figured out my idea, I'd be close enough to intercept the Engineer if they attempted to move it.

The corridors were cleared of mutineers as I made my way through them, and hopefully it remained that way. But when did things ever go _my _way? _(Do not complain; your luck has been holding reasonably well considering)_

I was never the lucky one, that honor went to the First and the Last.


	34. Defiance: Part Three

**UPDATE INFO:**

I changed Nancy Herald's rank from Lieutenant to Sergeant Major. When I first gave her a rank, I knew jack-shit about the Marine ranking structure. Now I have a basic understanding of what Non-Commissioned Officers and a Commissioned Officers are while also having an understanding of the military structure as a whole. I thank ilmiopassato and her "Natalie Cooper Series" for going so in-depth about it. Oh, if you haven't already checked it out, I highly recommend it. Best Halo FanFic I've read so far; not saying a lot since I've only read like... three, but it's still got excellent writing, perfect characters and back stories, incredible pacing, and a great premise.

While I can change Nancy Herald's rank, I can't change the entire military structure of the crew aboard the _Kryptonite_. But as I've said, this ship is ONI employed, so I'll use the "ONI changed this" excuse to justify it. It's a bit of a dodgy system, and a lot of Marines with certain ranks have duties that they wouldn't really have, but I think it should work since the Marines aboard the _Kryptonite _have been organized into smaller units (Fireteams) to handle the low-scale missions the _Kryptonite _is usually assigned to. Having Marine's being organized into Battalions, Companies, Platoons, and Squads would be difficult as the crew of the _Kryptonite _hardly engage in large-scale battles on the front-line

Nobody pointed out this mistake; I figured it out myself earlier. So no need to throw out credits - except to me; I'm awesome! I saw this when no one else did, hah! I'm so cool!

Being serious, I beg for any of you to point out any mistakes I make in the Marine system from hereon out. Making mistakes in this regard makes me feel like I'm insulting the members of the Marine Corps. If you're going to dive into a topic with certain aspects, you've got to get the aspects right. I made this mistake with Red and the energy sword and Courtney being raped, so of course I made other previous ones, but I'll try my hardest to prevent any new ones from occurring.

* * *

><p><em>'Insane', 'crazy', 'obsessive', 'brat', 'idiot', 'drama-queen'.<em>

_These were among the many names I was called when I refused to give up on Red. 'Obsessive' came from many mouths, but my mother's was the most memorable. My father... he just ignored me._

_Month upon month, year upon year, I never gave up on Red. I always knew he was alive, and I refused to just move on with my life._

_Despite me visibly being in pain when Red was hurt during his training, despite me feeling his emotions long after his clone was dead, my parents never believed me._

_"It's hard, losing a bother or sister; let alone a twin brother or sister," My mother had told me once. "I lost my sister at a young age, and it hurt me, Courtney, it hurt me. I've never gotten over it. What you're going through is normal, okay, but you need to consider that me and your father are in pain as well. So you need to stop saying that Red is alive and in pain as it really, really hurts us to hear it. Please."_

_She never listened to me, not even about Christina. "It's common for teachers and students not to get along," She told me. "I always hated my own teacher; she was a bitch. But I didn't make up lies about her."_

_'I didn't make up lies about her'... If she was a bitch, she was a bitch, and you didn't have to make up lies to make her more of a bitch. At the time, I didn't think anything of what she said. Now, I wonder where the hell the logic in what she said was._

_The day that Christina was publicly humiliated and kicked off of Arcadia was the day that my mother saw the truth. She apologized, but I didn't care, all I did was strike her for always ignoring my calls for help when it was a mothers' duty to always be there to help their offspring. She stood there, crying while I walked away with the eyes of a hundred people on me._

_My mother didn't speak to me for about a week. But not long after I arrived home and locked myself in my room, ignoring my dad asking where my mother was, my door was knocked down by my enraged dad who hit me across the face._

_"I don't believe in violence; it's never the right thing to do," He hissed at me, leaning over me as I tried to keep the tears in. "but year after fucking year, Courtney, you've done nothing but torment us."_

_I didn't answer, despite my father screaming at me to explain myself. Instead, I snuck out and tried to run away. But those Arcadian cops knew how to find someone when they needed to, and I was forced home, humiliated._

_My parents repeatedly tried to sit me down and talk to me, but I always refused. I hardly spoke to my mother again, but I managed to rekindle my relationship with my father._

_He apologized. Apologized for never believing me about Christina, or never accepting my decision to get an abortion for Eric's baby. Eventually, he even began to ask about Red, and how I was still connected to him._

_He finally believed me. We tried to tell my mother, but she was in such a denial that she wouldn't even listen to us. My father gave up on her, and began devoting all his attention to finding Red. We both soon came to the conclusion that if the fake Red was a clone, then it was the Office of Naval intelligence behind Red's disappearance._

_All our ideas and speculations came down to one end: I would have to join the Navy in an attempt to find Red. My father tried to sway me from joining the Navy, and said he'd join himself, but I pointed out his age and how the Covenant would eat him alive, pissing him off. But he relented, and I joined the Navy with one single goal._

_And what a fucking ride it's been since._

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Courtney Jsarez)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[14:11 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite's_**** Mess-Hall, Installation 06]**

* * *

><p>Red gave me one last nod before he calmly turned around and left the mess, taking a Sentinel's laser emitter and a MA5B with him.<p>

I watched him disappear when he turned around a corner and made his way down the corridor we came from to get here. Just after being reunited with him, he disappeared again. Adding together the battle records saying that it was rare to encounter a Spartan on the battlefield and the way Red moved about in combat, I figured Spartans were mostly lone wolves. So as much as I wanted to go with Red, I knew he would do better without us slowing him down. That, and I needed to liberate the rest of the crew.

It was only logical to put the mess-hall close to the crew quarters, so all we had to do was to cut through the door leading to a corridor which in turn led to the crew quarter section of the ship. A single long corridor with doors in a filed pattern on each side of the corridor which led to a barracks that could hold up to twenty crew members. I forgot how many barracks there were, but it was enough for the five hundred or so members of the crew. But with such an outlay, I could only speculate to how the Sentinels and mutineers managed to round-up all possible threats and lock them in the barracks.

Perhaps they told lies, perhaps there was a shit ton of Sentinels; it didn't matter, nothing would stop us.

Once we got the crew released, I would sort out some teams and send them out to secure the ship. The crew quarters was also thankfully close to the armory, so the crew had easy access to weapons and equipment if the ship was to be invaded. If this wasn't already good enough, the armory also had some welders and blowtorches. That was one of the good things about a _Charon_: The tools, weapons and armor all had to be stacked together in a single, large room.

I waited until Red had disappeared from sight before walking over to Herald and Parker's bodies. Riddled with bullets and having blood coming out of their mouths from internal damage made me shudder. I didn't know Nancy Herald or Parker well, but both were excellent Marines by my standards. Herald did have some problems with leading, and I planned on getting her demoted after I heard about Smith's death at the hand's of 'Lodam, but I figured myself a fucking ass, and gave Herald another chance.

She never got the chance to have been that perfect Marine, and she died not knowing how much I respected her as a leader.

Parker was difficult due to his gun-ho attitude, but he managed to pull his men through a combat situation -or so I heard. He also made a fine tactician, once advising me on a situation and giving me a suggestion that saved a dozen or so lives.

They were both young, and seeing them like this, dead and broken, made me hate myself as a leader. If only we had known about the Sentinel's weapons earlier... we _might _had made it through before Dorhan could catch up to us.

"Courtney?" Lynda called out to me from across the room.

"Just getting a laser." I called back out in reply, kneeling down to scavenge through the Sentinel debris for the laser emitter. With two dozen emitters from two dozen dead Sentinels among the debris, it wasn't long until I found what I was looking forward.

Picking the laser emitter up, I inspected it and blew some dust formed by the Sentinels exploding off. Upon examining for a few seconds, I discovered a potential flaw with them. "...Lynda, come over here for a sec."

I heard Lynda's footsteps get closer and closer until she stopped directly behind me. "Yeah?"

I got back up onto my feet, turned to face her, and tossed her the emitter. "Tell me that doesn't look like some type of battery."

Lynda inspected the laser emitter before finding what I meant which she inspected as well, twitching her eyes as she thought. "Don't know much about batteries, but... yeah, I'd say this matches the book."

I gestured for her to toss it back to me which she did. Grabbing it, I said, "Right, get the boys to cart one each. They are not -and I repeat, _Not_- allowed to utilize them until I give the say so. Wasting these things' ammo could get us into an 'oh, we're fucked' situation."

"Where are we meant to put them?" Lynda questioned.

"Huh?"

"I mean, how are we going to cart them around? Because I _don't_ think Forerunner weaponry have magnets."

I let out a light grunt as I looked around, musing. I often found it more comfortable for me not to look into someones' eyes while thinking. "Okay... I have an idea. I need your men alert at all times and armed with weapons we can use. So, have White give the one he's got to one of the docs then get the other two to cart one. Emphasize that they're _not _to use the weapon, but are simply our bags."

"Poor docs." Lynda remarked, grabbing the laser emitter as I tossed it to her. She then went past me to the debris and picked through it for another laser before finding one, placing it under her arm so she could carry it easier before marching back past me and towards the docs.

Now it was to get the assault rifle. I turned back around and knelt over the two Marine's bodies. Before I grabbed the MA5B, though, I quickly raised my gaze so I could see into the corridor. Perhaps I should had gone and taken a weapon from one from one of the dead mutineers instead. Despite Freud, Tulnai, Gray and Dalton covering me, I still felt uneasy being out in the open like this; a mutineer could come running around the corner at any moment and take me out.

Then again, the Gravemind would warn me through his connection to my mind, wouldn't he? But, he didn't tell us about the Sentinel's weapons when he clearly knew we were in trouble earlier; no doubt Red was pissed at him for that. So, as helpful as the Gravemind was being, it was also being a pain in the ass. _(Correct, I enjoyed your panicking. But enough of your complaining as your sibling has inflicted enough upon me already) _So, Red _was _pissed. Were it not for the more dire circumstances, I would had gone out of my way to tell the Gravemind what a total fucking ass it was. But I could save that 'till later, so I just savored the thought. _(Remember, on my will, I can inflict anguish on your sibling for defying me) _I had just gotten told to fuck off by the Gravemind, nice.

With all the time dwelling, I could had just grabbed the assault rifle and be done with it. Silently scolding myself, I reached out and grabbed the weapon and undid Herald's tactical combat vest before getting back up, quickly -but calmly- moving away from the doorway and back towards the others who were getting ready to move on.

"Damn, these things are heavy." One of the docs complained as I approached while putting on Herald's vest. They were civilians, so I didn't blame them for not being able to cart a weapon properly. That was one of the bad things about ONI and the _Kryptonite_: They wanted their own personal on the ship as much as possible. Doctors were a good way for that to happen, so all our medics, who had been trained for combat scenarios, were replaced with ONI employed civilian doctors who were only skilled with wielding Magnums.

"Okay boys and gals," Lynda began. "loose formation. Docs are to remain in cover _at all times _and not exit cover until I say so. Tulnai, you have point. Freud, Gray, you two'll take up the rear. The rest of us will cover Tulnai the best we can. Remember to holler if you spot anyone, and for the love of God, keep your eyes open because the motion trackers decided to quit being our eyes for their daily break _not _sanctioned by me."

Every nodded before moving into formation. Lynda took up position right behind Tulnai and I took position next to her. "You know how a combat situation handles?" Lynda asked me.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on White as he came forward and took a laser emitter off one of the doctors who were taking cover by the edges' of the door we were about to burn open. "Yeah, they teach you this stuff in the academy."

Lynda let out a grunt. "Great. Navy learnt combat tactics used by the Marines and Army. Why weren't we taught something the Navy specializes in? And people say that the Navy _isn't _considered better than everyone else-" Lynda scoffed. "-yeah, right."

I was somewhat reassured by Lynda's complaining. Even after Herald and Parker's death, she wasn't completely broken. She still took it bad; there was no denying that. But she did seem okay in the head.

Once White had finished carving out a makeshift door, he handed the laser emitter back to the doctor before kicking the door in.

The newly revealed corridor looked empty... but looks could be deceiving. Eric was a prime example of this. But just as I began to feel the nervousness leave me, I saw him. Eric, he was standing there, smiling and naked. His... 'manhood' glistened as the dimmed light reflected past it. That wetness... it was... _me_... I was in absolute horror over what he was doing to me... but my body... my _fucking body_... it _enjoyed_ being raped.

My breathing intensified as Eric got closer. It was a trick, I knew it, but why couldn't I stop myself from freaking out? "Courtney?" Lynda placed a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped, spun around, and raised my assault rifle to face Lynda. "Whoa!" She exclaimed, backing up with everyone else turning around, not daring to raise their weapons.

The rage in my eyes died down, and I realized what I was doing. Lowering my gun, and my eyes, I turned back around to see that Eric was gone. "...Sorry." I quietly apologized to her.

"What's with these sudden rage outbursts?" Lynda asked me. "Earlier, you hit White. What was that about."

"I'll explain later." I told her, keeping my voice composed when all I wanted to do was break down and cry.

"Courtney-"

"Lynda, _later_." I told her, more coldly than I meant to.

I heard Lynda sigh. "Yep, okay."

I closed my eyes and lightly shook my head at myself. Why was I so weak as to think that what I saw was real? It wasn't Eric; it was too young to had been Eric. And _why _didn't the Gravemind help calm me like he was surely doing for Red -who wasn't reacting aggressively like I was when the figure appeared? _(Because I care little for your life) _Summed it all up in a nutshell. Why didn't I see the simple explanation sooner?

"Ma'am?" Tulnai asked Lynda, gesturing to the doorway.

"Go ahead." Lynda signaled with her hand.

Tulnai nodded, moving into the corridor with us on his tail. There was a reason Lynda made him point-man; he had good eyes, and a good sense of direction. Add to that his good reflexes and you've got yourself a Marine who you _always_ put on point.

I squinted my eyes at the lighting in the corridor. The dim light reflected off of the metal surfaces and shone into my eyes. This was distracting, and I had to use caution.

I envied the Marines who were assigned to guard Red when he was in recovery, as they were already outfitted with basic armor. That basic armor included their CH252 helmet that had a nice little visor to keep their eyes protected while giving them tactical data. Tactical data was absent here, however. Thanks went to both Timmy and this mysterious Forerunner Jammer for that.

_(Your foe is near) _Before I could react, Tulnai raised his hand to signal for us to stop and get to cover.

I quickly scaled over the railing that kept people from falling off the main walkway through the corridor and took cover behind a pillar that connected the railing up to the wall for support. White did the same to the pillar on the opposite side of the walkway, scaling over the railing before taking cover.

Cover was scarce to come by for the others. There was the inclinations of a doorway that led to the kitchen supply room that Lynda took cover behind. The rest just scaled the railings as well and took cover to stay out of the line of fire.

I heard footsteps. Several pairs of VZG7 boots carefully walking down the grated walkway of the corridor just around the corner.

The footsteps got closer and closer until they stopped. By the sounds of it, they were right around the corner we were about to go around. If it wasn't for Tulnai's ears, we might had walked right into them. _(You do not acknowledge me? I warned you)_

"Frag, in the hole!" One of the mutineers yelled, and I heard the unmistakable ding of a M9 frag grenade being primed before hearing it bounce across the ground of the walkway.

"Oh no you don't!" Lynda growled, and I heard footsteps before hearing the grenade bouncing across the ground again followed shortly after by a loud _boom _and a few dying screams of pain.

"Nice save, ma'am." Gray complimented Lynda.

"Don't, you'll make me blush. Tulnai, check if it's clear."

"Affirmative." Tulnai replied, and I heard his footsteps as he scaled back over the railings and approached the corner the mutineers were behind. Curious, I leaned through the railings to see what had happened.

I couldn't see much of the mutineers since Lynda accurately tossed the grenade back around the corner. But I did see the corpse of a mutineer leaning in a sitting position against a corner which connected the left wall up to the front wall, near the corner of the corridor that the mutineers were hiding behind. I guessed that the explosion blew him a few feet out of cover where he landed against the wall.

It looked like a large piece of his ribs had been blown out, and he was missing a few fingers. Blood was pouring out of his ears -pulverized eardrums- and out of his mouth -internal injuries- He looked young, and I felt somewhat guilty.

"Ma'am, survivor," Tulnai announced. "Minor injuries; shell-shocked. Orders?"

I saw Lynda leave cover and calmly walk up to Tulnai, weapon lowered. Figuring that it was all clear, I scaled back over the railings and followed her.

"What do you think, Courtney?" Lynda asked me as I stopped beside her. I had to resist closing my eyes when I saw the young Marine cradling the body of his comrade in his arms, eyes wide opened in horror. He was unresponsive which was normal -if not troublesome.

"He's no more of a threat, so we'll just leave him here with one of the docs." I replied.

"Affirmative." Tulnai replied, heading back past me to signal for the others to move up.

Hearing a squishy sound, I looked down to see that I had unintentionally stepped into a piece of flesh that was surrounded in a pool of red blood. "What a fucking mess." I remarked, stepping off of the flesh.

"Yeah." Lynda agreed, kneeling over one of the mutineer's bodies to check their vitals. I was about to do the same with a body near me when two _Human _bullets whizzed past my head.

"DOWN!" I yelled, and both me and Lynda instantly broke into the inclinations of two nearby doors leading to more storage rooms as more bullets whizzed past. The Gravemind didn't warn me, so I was pissed. _(I calculated the bullet passage; you would not had been hit now or before you got into cover. Cease complaining)_

Now facing back the way we came, I saw that Tulnai was missing which must had meant he made it back around the corner and was in cover. Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked across to Lynda who was in cover behind the inclinations of a doorway opposite to me.

"What're we do?!"

Lynda turned around so she was facing the cover she was in, leaned her assault rifle out of cover without leaving cover herself, and began firing. "This!"

Doing the same, I fired blindly at the mutineers. Judging by the amount of shots, there had to be at least five; probably coming to take us out on Timmy's orders.

Bullets were whizzing past me, and I hunched myself as far into cover as I could. This was the first combat situation I had been in. I was in a similar one where a ship I was serving on had been boarded by the Covenant, and I encountered an Elite Intelligence Officer that had the nicety of sticking an energy sword through my thigh. Thinking about it, I dreaded if Red was on any important mission at the time.

I pulled my assault rifle back into cover and began reloading. Ejecting the clip, I tossed it onto the floor and pulled another one out of Herald's tactical combat vest that I was now wearing before injecting the clip into the MA5B and leaning my assault rifle back out of cover and began firing again.

If I remembered this corridor correctly, then there was another junction up ahead that was serving as their cover. If so, my bullets were likely not hitting anything of importance.

"We need to pull back!" I warned Lynda.

"Not gonna happen with so much fire coming our way!"

I grunted in both annoyance and fear. But hearing the clanging footsteps of Marine boots on the grated metal pathway, I turned around to the sound to see Tulnai run out of cover, M9 frag in hand. I heard the priming ding just as Tulnai threw the grenade all the way towards where the fire was coming from.

It was a daring move, and he took two bullets to the shoulder before he managed to get back into cover following a _boom_.

"Tunlnai's been hit!" I yelled, peering out of cover following the cease of fire.

More bodies littered the junction's floor, blood all over the walls and floor with bits of flesh and limb around as well.

"I'm green, ma'am." Tulnai reassured us.

"We'll let the docs decide that." I told him, turning back around to see him standing there, holding his shoulder with blood seeping through his gloved fingers and dripping onto the ground.

Wade Tulnai was a rather large person, standing taller than Lynda. He had a strong and hard face that showed his age, being very gaunt. His brows were angled sharply which made him look like he was constantly angry, and his thin-lipped mouth was shaped like he was constantly angry as well. His bright blue eyes made him look more un-Human, and the scars revealed by him having a clean shave and haircut also made him that much more intimidating.

One of his most notable scars was the one that came away from his left nose hole and went over his lip, ending at the bottom of his chin. I guessed it came from getting into a fist-fight with a Jackal

"Shit." I muttered as I approached Tulnai.

"I can still work my arm, ma'am." He reassured me, voice as stoic and composed as it ever was. Much to my stressing, he moved his hand away from his shoulder and began working it around. Granted, it moved like there wasn't just two bullets in there, but it looked to hurt like hell.

"Ma'am!" Lynda called out to me, and I spun around, ready to run to cover but calmed down when I saw a single wounded Marine walking towards us, holding his hip that he seemed to be bleeding from.

"Hands on your head!" Lynda warned him, her voice full of rage. She wasn't planning on taking shit from no one after all that had happened so far.

"Okay, okay," The Marine panicked, following Lynda's orders. "Just... just _don't _shoot me, okay!"

The others came around the corner with the docs breaking off to either tend to Tulnai, the shell-shocked Marine, or check the vitals of the other five dead mutineers littered around the corridor. White, Gray, Freud and Dalton just stood their, weapons raised at the surrendering mutineer.

"How many were you with?" Lynda questioned the mutineer, waving Freud to move up and secure him.

"five, not including me, ma'am. They're all dead, save Howartz." _(He speaks true)_

"Howartz!" Lynda exclaimed. "The fuck was he doing with you's?!"

"Trying to get home and see his wife again, ma'am." The mutineer explained, eyeing up Freud as he approached him. Howartz was a member of Lynda's Fireteam, so I understood her rage. Being betrayed like that would piss me off as well.

"What's the status of his wounds?" I added my own question, before Lynda could get too carried away.

"Nothing serious, ma'am. Just a few cuts and scratches. He's unconscious at the moment. Oh, he's also missing two fingers and is bleeding _a lot_."

"Right," I said, turning to face a doc who finished checking the vitals of the last mutineer. He shook his head to tell me that they were all dead, and got up from kneeling. "You, go tend to Howartz."

"Affirmative, ma'am." He complied, rushing past me and heading up towards the junction.

"What's your name?" Lynda questioned the surrendering mutineer.

"Cedric Marstern; Fireteam Solitude, ma'am." So, he was one of Herald's men.

"All clear, ma'am." Freud reported, stepping off to the side of the mutineer so Lynda could ask questions directly to his face.

"How many are guarding the crew quarters?" Lynda questioned him.

"I'm-... I'm not sure, ma'am. A lot, to say the least. Plus there's also the Sentinels, but they shouldn't be much of a problem." _(He speaks the truth of his knowledge)_

Lynda turned around to face me. There was one thing we both had in common: We could read each others minds. I nodded, and she turned back around to face the mutineer. "Okay, here's the deal. You help us out -_willingly- _and you get to see your family again without me hunting your ass down for payback later on."

"Yes, ma'am; of course." Cedric nodded quickly and nervously.

"That's good. Still gonna have to hold you at gunpoint, though." Lynda remarked, lowering her rifle and approaching the mutineer.

"What do you mean 'at gun point'?" Cedric questioned Lynda as she placed a hand on his shoulder and spun him around.

"You're gonna be our hostage."

"Oh." Cedric muttered. There was no denying the absolute fear in his voice. I immediately figured that he _didn't _really want to go up against us, but just wanted to see his family more than anything, so he chose to side with Dorhan.

"Don't sound so glum-" Lynda tapped his head lightly, turning her head around to face us and waved us to regroup on her. Moving forward, I shook my head as I knew what Lynda was going to say next. "-after-all, when I become famous I'll say that you were the first Human hostage I took. My fans will be all over you!"

"Oh, thanks."

"Huh? Oh, I mean my fans will be all over you trying to _kill _you. Yeah, fans ain't particularly fond of people who tried to kill their idol."

"Well, I was actually aiming for Captain Jsarez." Cedric clarified.

I couldn't help but grin at the balls the Marine had. Unfortunately for him, that just got him into more trouble. "Looks like I'm hunting you down myself." Lynda sighed, pushing Cedric forwards as we followed her closely behind. I turned back to check on the doc we left behind and saw that he was kneeling down in front of the shell-shocked Marine. I really didn't want to leave them both, but we had no choice... we needed to push on.

Strangely enough, Cedric didn't reply to Lynda's comment. He must had gotten smart and decided to keep his mouth shut unless he pissed her off more. I remembered one Marine that pissed Lynda off too much... he was pretty much put into a coma, and I had to bloody prevent Lynda from getting court-martialled  
>-<em>again<em>.

We arrived at the junction to see the doc with the wounded Howartz who was still unconscious and bloodied. With the doc only focusing on Howartz and not the other, more messed up ones, I concluded that they _were _all dead. Not that I doubted Cedric's words, but he must had checked all their vitals pretty quick since he revealed himself not long after the explosion.

"Son of a bitch." Lynda growled, glaring angrily at Howartz.

"What're we going to do with him?" Gray asked. "We can't spare two of the doctors, can we?"

"Freud, help the shell-shocked Marine up here so the other doc can tend to them both." Lynda told Freud.

"Affirmative." Freud replied. I heard his footsteps as he headed back down the corridor to get the doc and the shell-shocked Marine. His footsteps weren't as heavy as Tulnai's though, and that was because unlike Tulnai and Dalton, Freud and Gray weren't in armor, being off duty and all. The others did because they were guarding Red. While I was initially annoyed at the stress Dorhan, Fleighted Fire and the Monarch put on me to make sure Red was properly guarded, I was now grateful.

There was a disturbing absent of conversation for the three minutes it took Freud to come back with the shell-shocked Marine leaning off of him, eyes still opened. The Marine's eyes were red for not once blinking after the explosion, and his face still seemed disturbingly stoic.

Freud leaned the Marine against one of the junctions corners, but the doc that was tending him immediately ignored him and rushed over to Howartz, pulling out one of the medkits we took from the mess-hall to help Howartz.

Pain suddenly washed over my neck, and I immediately fell to the floor, almost dizzy. "Courtney?!" Lynda exclaimed, kneeling down next to me and spinning me over to my back.

"Are you okay?" She asked me, quickly checking me over.

"Yeah, just... Red wasn't careful enough." I explained.

"I see." Lynda nodded, taking a deep breath of relief before giving me a hand up. I gave my neck a bit of a massage to ease the pain.

After a few seconds, the pain died down. Once it did, I knelt next to the doctor who was tending to Howartz.

"Go on ahead, I've got this." The doctor tending to Howartz whose name I still didn't know told us. That's what felt wrong here... I knew everyones' name save the doctors. I just didn't care for civilians working for ONI. But then again, I didn't care much for my crew either. I wanted to change that earlier, but now I was killing my crew.

We continued on, leaving the doc, the unconscious Howartz and the shell-shocked Marine behind to fend for themselves. I was pretty sure that Timmy wouldn't order the doctors death when the team he sends to them arrive -which they surely would. I was even more optimistic since these guys were ONI. That was odd; why were these doctors helping us if they were ONI? Wouldn't of they been helping Dorhan instead? Was it a situation where they got disgusted upon hearing what ONI had done, and wanted to help us out of sympathy. It's possible, but what about their family?

I decided not to bring up their family. Dorhan probably didn't get to them first, and so they didn't consider being locked up. But if it was to be brought up, what side would they choose then?

We arrived at the crew quarters a short time later with no more resistance save once where we had to stop and 'plan' with the Gravemind. During the 'planning' I had to resist the urge to grunt in pain when Red was grazed by bullet rounds from attempting to get to the Engineer.

But it didn't take long before we got back on track, and as soon as we turned the corner, I saw nearly twenty or so Marines leaning out of doorway inclinations and other assortment of cover, weapons raised at us. Backing them up had to have been dozens of Sentinels. Some looked like the Monarchs, and that held a problem since they were equipped with weapons that could incapacitate us. We would've been torn to shreds if we didn't have Cedric at gunpoint; the Gravemind reassured me of that, and I went ahead with my plan, even though I didn't trust the Gravemind.

"Stand down!" Lynda snapped at them. I kept my MA5B raised, ready to open fire when I had to while also checking for the nearest cover.

Some of the Marine's began laughing. "You think _one _coward will keep us from seeing our families again?" A Marine -likely a Fireteam leader- laughed. "Go fuck yourself, fucking cunt." Hazard; worse of the crew. They were the ones that got into a fight with Red and got their asses kicked. Lex Tyre was in a coma from being knocked out by Red, so Hazard was a man down, but they were still as deadly as they were annoying.

I remained composed, regardless of the circumstances. But with Hazard here, negotiating might had been a _lot_ harder than I'd like.

"Dorhan's dead, so you're taking your orders from an AI, huh?" Lynda smirked. "How low of you, Brokland, and here I thought you actually made a good soldier -despite your mouth. Looks like I was wrong."

I heard Kurt Brokland, Hazard's leader, let out a chuckle. "Nice try, Colonel, but we're not falling for this."

_(Continue your improvising, the climax is imminent)_

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 9, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[14:12 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[UNSC ****_Kryptonite_****, Non-Designated Corridor, Installation 06]**

* * *

><p>I turned around the corner, my boots treading blood from when I walked over the blood pools of the dead mutineers, the dim light if the corridor shining in my eyes which made me squint, Sentinel beam in one hand and assault rifle in the other.<p>

I left Nai and the others behind not a minute ago, and I hoped that they would be okay. Despite the Gravemind 'stating' that it would look out for them, I still felt somewhat uneasy about leaving them to fend for themselves.

It didn't help that the Gravemind was still playing its _games_, not telling Nai and the others about the Sentinels and their weapons which may had prevented the unneeded casualties. Parker, Herald, Dorhan and those five Marines may have lived if the Gravemind was just the slightest bit considerate of others. _(Enough of your complaining!)_

I shook my head, amused that the Gravemind allowed me to find one of its weaknesses. It didn't like repetition, so it didn't like complaining. _(Correct. Mock me all you desire, but it will only bring about the pain of my wraith)_

I didn't like repetition either, so going on about this was growing irritating. I instead changed the thought of my mind to where exactly Lighter Than Some was since the Gravemind _failed _to tell me. _(Follow the path I reveal to you) _Images flashed in my mind, and I saw where I had to go.

Dorhan wasn't dumb enough to put Lighter in the brig with the Hybrids, so he had it detained in a large storage room, and had a makeshift Fireteam, Fireteam Exile, guarding it. On top of that, David Larson and what remained of Fireteam Embers and Titan had regrouped, and were on-route to intercept me. This was a foolish move by Timmy because if I took them all out, there would be no one left to help Fireteam Exile guard Lighter if Timmy realized my plan, and tried to move it.

All the other Fireteams were at the crew quarters; even Hazard and Ebony were redirected to the crew quarters after I was captured by Embers. Location too, despite protecting Dorhan. Dorhan figured that he no longer needed Location protecting him with both Titan and Embers backing him up, and he decided that he would be secure. He was dead wrong.

Now Nai and the others had Fireteams Ebony, Location, Hazard, Victory, Marshal, Missionary and Vector in their way. I had to move fast. Fortunately, getting to this storage room would be easy as long as I took the Gravemind's directions with care to avoid Larson, Embers and Titan. _(Do not be a coward; face the Effingo and extinguish it) _As much as I'd like to take Larson out and ultimately keep Nai and the others safe, I couldn't take him out if he was being backed up by the others. Alone, maybe, but not with six Marines supporting him.

_(How irritating, your sibling complains about the Vigils and their weapons also) _I chuckled as I sped around another corner. I continued to sprint down the corridors for who knew how long, listening to nothing but my boots pounding on the ground and the dripping of blood from my back wound hitting the ground and the footsteps of the figure as it followed me- The figure?

_(Do not turn, the semblance has formed into a figure that will bring about pain to your mind. Ignore it, and it shall fade) _Following the Gravemind's words, I continued on, not daring to look behind me.

I began to pick up speed again, and entered another sprint, the footsteps of the figure right behind me as well. But the footsteps resembled metal hitting metal... whoever the figure changed into was a Spartan... Sheila. I still resisted turning around to see her, despite me _needing _to see her face again.

_(Your sibling has engaged and extinguished all but one member of Victory. There were no casualties on her side) _That was good to hear, and I was oddly thankful that the Gravemind told me this. I quickly scolded myself, and remembered what it was. _(What I am is my nature. I cannot contradict it if I wanted to. But given the chance, would you go against your nature? My very existence is for destruction, and it is not a choice I made willingly) _I wasn't going to be sympathetic to it, and it quickly picked up on this and stopped.

I continued sprinting down the corridors, the speed of my augmentations coming in real handy. Eventually, the figure's footsteps faded away. I was alone again. _(Not alone) _Damn it.

I quickly arrived at where I was heading to. Directly four floors below me was the corridor that led straight up to the storage room Lighter was in. As soon as I began cutting down, Timmy would know my objective, and move Lighter through the other corridor that was connected to the storage room.

Placing my assault rifle on the ground, I gripped the Sentinel beam with both hands, aimed it at the floor, and fired. _(The Ancilla now knows, and the Effingo is making haste to intercept us. You have little choice in engaging and killing him as it is impossible to make your decent in time. Take this chance to prepare)_

I carved out a reasonable sized hole, and kicked in the metal I cut away. Again, I was thankful that the _Charon _designers didn't make the floors of the corridors too think with multiple layers. Maybe they anticipated something like this happening.

Picking up my assault rifle and jumping down the hole, I quickly placed the Sentinel beam onto the ground and raised my assault rifle up to the hole. Larson would be here any moment, and he was the most dangerous threat at the moment. _(I should update you. Your sister has recently engaged and extinguished all but two members of Missionary. There were no causalities on her side) _Again, I was grateful to the Gravemind for both updating me and using a vocabulary that made it easier for me to understand. The Gravemind usually spoke in a sadistic or puzzling way which either annoyed me, or confused me. Though, it seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, so it _mostly _put aside its games in favor of cooperation.

_(The Effingo is close. He is alone, so be ready) _I readied myself. Larson basically had the skills of an unarmored Spartan- Spartan-II, I reminded myself. The Gravemind told me about the Spartan-III Program -initiated by Colonel James Ackerson. But were they Spartans? They were trained by Mendez in similar fashions to us, and had the guidance of Kurt-051 that I was surprised to learn had survived his death staged by ONI. Were I close to Kurt like I was with Jorge and Sheila... it'd just be another reason to hate ONI. But instead of secret ops, the IIIs were instead used for suicide missions. The difference between IIs and IIIs was how expendable we were.

That was a thought for another time. The thought now had to remain on Larson whose footsteps I could hear. _(Flashbang! Watch out!) _I quickly used all my force to leap back as a flashbang grenade was thrown down from the hole and into the corridor I was in.

I leaped too fast. Tripping, I landed on my stomach. I managed to avoid the blast, but by the time I got up and spun around -which was almost instantaneous- Larson was already standing there.

Raising my MA5B, I fired off three short controlled bursts which he dodged out-of-the-way of with unnatural reflexes. But I had better reflexes, so I quickly shifted my aim and fired at the area he was dodging at. Unfortunately for me, his armor was too strong and he withstood the damage.

Thinking of his armor made me consider how unusual it was. It was definitely ONI, that was for sure. It was a full body muscle-suit with padded joints and armored hard-points. He also wore a tactical combat vest over-top his muscle-suit with a large assortment of equipment packed nicely into his pockets, belts and holsters. He also had various mechanical components along his armor that screamed REAP-X. By the looks of his armor, it seemed like he had an equally efficient helmet or mask to go with it, but it was absent here.

What caught my eye the most was the pocket around the collar of his muscle-suit that emitted the smell of some type of plant. My sense may had allowed me to smell things a lot better than normal Humans. It didn't, however, allow me to instantly realize what I was smelling if I didn't know the smell. This was the case. But why did he need some type of plant so close to his head? _(Minthostachys mollis. The Effingo is utilizing it for Antispasmodic reasons)_ Spasm and cramp relief? I forgot that he had Werner Syndrome. What was odd is that a cure for Werner had been found centuries ago, so why was he suffering from it? A genetic mutation from being cloned was why he had it, but why hadn't ONI cured him?

I shifted my aim to his unguarded head, but he managed to dodge as soon as I fired. My reflexes failed me here as he anticipated where I would shift my aim, and moved accordingly to avoid it. With his tactics being to a magnitude I couldn't beat, I threw my assault rifle aside and slammed into his chest and wrapped my arms around him. I planned on lifting him up and slamming him down onto the ground, but I failed to lock his arms, and he bought his elbow up and slammed it down onto the back of my neck.

My head began spinning out of control and my entire spine was inflamed with pain. But I was trained for this kind of physical pain, so I quickly used my arms to spin myself onto my back and did a kick-up to get back onto my feet. Once I was, I quickly dodged an uppercut from Larson and feigned a backstep before running back in and doing a jumping punch that Larson simply blocked.

Backstepping for real this time, I reassessed the situation. I needed the Gravemind's help. _(How ironic) _I wasn't trained to fight other people trained as much as I was. I was trained to fight insurrectionists and then trained to fight the Covenant. _(It makes it none the less amusing) _The Gravemind didn't have to help me, but Larson was out to kill me, so it should if it wanted its 'plans' to work. _(As if you wanted my plans to work)_

All the while I was arguing with the Gravemind, I was dodging more moves from Larson. It was _extremely _hard to focus on both arguing with a stubborn mass of destruction and to focus on defending myself from Larson's skillful melee tactics.

_(Feign a jumping punch, leap and to a front kick instead) _I followed through, making out like I was going to do a jumping punch, jumped, but instead kicked out to his chest.

Not anticipating this, Larson stumbled back, remaining on his feet, though. he glanced at me, his eyes full of stoic focus while also full of understanding; he knew that the Gravemind was helping me, so that made things difficult.

_(Act as you will. I will only guide you when the time requires it) _I ran at Larson. My next move was in the Gravemind's hands. _(Dodge left!) _Dodging to the left, Larson's punch missed me; he quickly reacted, and held his leg out to trip me. _(Jump!) _I jumped, dodging his trip attempted and spun around to see that his back was facing me. Taking the chance, I kicked out, smashing my foot into his back and sending him flying forward.

he never hit the ground, instead holding his hands out to stop his fall before pushing himself back onto his feet with amazing strength and turning around to face me. I was beginning to get an edge over him.

_(Charge him again! Leg sweep!) _Doing just that, I charged him and made to sweep him of his feet. _(Switch tactic, dodge to the right) _Dodging to the right, I moved out-of-the-way just in time to prevent myself from being caught in Larson's defense kick. As I was moving around to the back of him at an incredible speed, the Gravemind told me what to do next. _(Do a hook into the back of his head; take him down- No, wait! He figured it out!) _It was already too late, Larson spun around and jabbed, hitting me in the face and sending me stumbling back.

I quickly recovered, ignoring the blood seeping out of my nose and the cut on my lip. The gloves he wore were outfitted with armored guards and plating which would prove a problem.

_(Populatores de arca perditus) _Getting its meaning, I quickly drew my M6D at the fastest speed possible and aimed it at him. I took him off guard, and he barely had time to move before a single M225 SAP-HE round grazed the side of his head. The force _did_ manage to make him stumble back, and he also let out a grunt which reassured me that I hurt him.

With Larson's dodge broken, I fired again as he stumbled, hitting him in the chest and sending him back. Even though his armor resisted the bullet from entering too far into him, the impact did send him flying back with blood splattering from the wound as the bullet entered.

I had him, yet I didn't want to kill him. Instead, I redirected my- The Gravemind wouldn't let me, my aim remained on his head. _(Extinguish his life!) _The Gravemind could prevent me from doing a physical action that it didn't like, but it couldn't make me do something unless it took full control over me. Taking over me wasn't an option for it now, so it either let me have it my way, or we continue this. _(Continue to your leisure. But your sibling will suffer)_

I had no choice, I fired. But Larson was getting up when I fired, and the bullet instead missed and hit the wall behind him where it ricocheted off the hull and went right into Larson's left leg, trailing blood as it exited the front of his leg with a large hole erupting as well with bone shards and blood splatter all across the floor and the wall behind him.

Larson only grunted as he sprawled back onto the ground, pain showing on his face. At that instance, I felt really bad. He didn't know better; ONI brainwashed him... like me. _(Kill him, or else we remain here forever, and your sibling will not survive)_

"Does it want you to kill me?" Larson asked, his voice weak and groggy, his one eye staring at me with no signs of emotion within it.

The Gravemind allowed me to lower my Magnum. "Yeah."

Larson nodded, not moving. No doubt his body was going into shock from blood loss. "Are you going to?"

_(yes) _I couldn't say no, the Gravemind wouldn't let me. But my continued silence as I refused to say yes got the attention of Larson. "You want to say no, but the Gravemind wants you to say yes, huh?"

THIS WAS MY BODY! NOT ITS! I REFUSED TO BE A PUPPET! _(That is all you are. Food, and puppets; do not think you are more, host, you will only blind yourself. Kill him, or you will not see your sibling again- No, it may be more amusing for him to live. Host, I will allow him to live if you bring about the absolute mental pain you can. Break apart his past and make him remember his origins that he so much wants to forget. Make him remember... himself. But cross, me, and you will know pain, again -you, and your sister both) _I actually _wanted_ to break his connection to ONI. This was obviously going to cause him a great deal of stress, I knew that if I could turn him against ONI; convince him that he wasn't created for anything more than to carry out their dirty tasks, then he would become a dangerous enemy of ONI.

"No," I finally said. "I was just thinking." I raised my magnum's aim to his head, and slowly began to approach him. And of course, he reached for his own M6D that was holstered on his hip. Acting faster, I charged at him, kicking his arm away before flipping my Magnum around in my hand before gripping it again but by the barrel. I then pistol-whipped him in the head, knocking him unconscious.

flipping my magnum back to grab it by the handle again, I holstered it between the waist of my pants and my back. Without any proper belts, there was a limitation to the weapons I could carry.

Examining Larson's leg, I concluded that I must had ruptured several arteries and blood vessels. I had to act fast before he bled out, so I knelt next to him and began going through his pouches. If he was ONI, then he had to have been used to going on solo operations, so he would have medical equipment on him.

After finding a medkit and bio-foam on him, I inserted the biofoam canister into his wound and began to seal it. Once I was done, I tossed the canister aside and examined Larson's wound one last time before bandaging it. He wasn't going to bleed out, and Fireteam Titan and Embers would help him out further, so I figured it was safe to leave him, and got back onto my feet.

_(You must act fast! The Facticius indoles is being removed; make haste!)_ Heeding the Gravemind's words, I turned away from Larson, picked up the Sentinel beam, and began carving a hole through the floor.

After cutting through the remaining three floors, I was finally on the right floor. Only taking me three minutes to cut through the floors, I hoped that I wasn't too late.

I turned around to see the door to the storage room was locked -as I suspected. Gripping the Sentinel beam with both hands, I quickly calved out a makeshift doorway before picking my assault rifle up and running towards the metal I carved out that was still sticking with its base. Running a the metal, I kicked it in with the added force of my momentum which sent it flying inwards.

As I anticipated, the room was empty. Rushing towards the only door they could had gone through, I dropped my assault rifle, gripped the Sentinel beam with both hands, and began calving out another makeshift doorway. Once I was done, I kicked in the door, picked up my assault rifle, and began sprinting after Exile and Lighter.

_(Be without the Vigil weapon for its use is no longer needed. You must move faster; heed my words!) _I followed the Gravemind's orders, dropping the Sentinel beam to have it clang onto the ground as I ran forward, leaving it behind, gripping my MA5B in both of my hands now.

Turning a corner, I saw Lighter being led on by Exile who all had set up defensive positions and were in cover; Timmy must had warned them that they wouldn't outrun me.

Lighter wasn't in cover. It could be considered a foolish move for not getting it into cover, but they knew I was a Spartan, and that if I didn't want to hit something, then I wouldn't.

Springing into the nearest cover -another doorway inclination- I tossed my assault rifle aside, and pulled my magnum out and cocked it. Five Marines were standing between me and helping Nai; six more coming up behind me. I had to act fast.

There was a doorway directly opposite to the one I was in cover of, so that would serve. Springing out of cover, I quickly picked my target -a Marine with a Saw; the biggest threat- and fired a single round at his head as I leaped back into cover.

I heard the sound of the bullet's impact along with the sound of spraying blood and brain matter and curses from the other Marines. A single round managed to graze my shoulder, so I was doing fine.

_(You must act faster. Your sibling awaits your capture of the Facticius indoles, but her foe do not desire to wait for her appearance for much longer. Act now, or she will face the foe sooner than desired!)_

Springing back out of cover and sprinting across to the doorway inclination I was at earlier, I aimed my magnum again at another Marine, and fired just as I hunched back into cover, avoiding the hail of bullets by mere milliseconds.

I heard the sound of a bullet impacting on flesh and the sound of a body and weapon hitting the ground, along with more curses from the other Marine mutineers.

I did this again, waiting loner than the other time so I took them by surprise. I aimed for the head of another Marine, fired a round, and killed him just as I reached the opposite doorway.

I felt bad when I heard Lighter let out shrieks each time I killed a Marine and the orders of Marines as they pushed the Engineer back when it tried to go and help the Marines I killed.

Two more Marines remained, but the last one surrendered after I did another spring for cover and took out his comrade.

The Marine dropped his weapon and got to his knees as I exited cover. "Okay, you got us, Sierra, just... you understand, right?"

I approached the Marine, looking into his eyes. I understood all their actions, but I was acting out in a similar fashion as they were. "Yeah." I replied, pistol-whipping him and knocking him out.

Lighter let out a shriek as it hurried over to the Marine I knocked out and began checking him over. I couldn't waste any time, so I grabbed the Engineer's tentacle and calmly tugged it after me.

Cooing, the Engineer followed me as we headed back to the storage room that had a terminal -used to access manifests and organize the storage, but it was connected up to the ships systems, so it could deal with Timmy.

Arriving at the storage room, I led the Engineer over to the terminal. I told the Gravemind within my mind to give Nai the go ahead, and I turned to face the Engineer. The Engineer didn't take any particular side; it only did what it was ordered to do by the Reclaimers unless those orders would bring about harm to anything Forerunner. Of course, they didn't comply with the Covenant initially, but they didn't have much choice after the Covenant used brutal tactics to get them to cooperate.

I still had no idea where Lighter came from. It wasn't from this Halo, and it couldn't have been a member of the Covenant that escaped. Even the Gravemind wouldn't tell me its origins.

"I need you to rewrite this ship's AI's code; _don't _destroy it, just take out the ONI protocols, do you understand? It just needs to comply with my sister and me; no one else, okay?"

Lighter cocked its head up and down, nodding. Gently pushing me aside, it approached the terminal and began to bring it out of lock-down and started doing its thing.

"I commend you," Timmy's voice came over the room's intercoms. "your tactics are superb. I underestimated you, Sierra."

"So did Dorhan." I replied indifferently.

Timmy said something in reply, but his voice came through disrupted and statically. But the static eventually resided, and Timmy's voice went back to normal. His words, however, were new. "This is UNSC AI Serial Number TMY 5126-8. I am at your service, Spartan-098."

I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. "Tell all the mutineers to stand down, and get me into contact with the Monarch or Monitor or both for all I care."

"Affirmative."

There was a minute wait before Timmy replied. "I have issued stand-down orders; all Fireteams are standing down and awaiting further orders. The Monarch has been contacted, and will speak to you over this room's intercoms. I await your clearance, sir."

"Go ahead."

The Monarch's metallic voice replaced Timmys. "Reclaimer, the Huragok may have manipulated the Ancilla's functionality, but you still act against your laws, so I cannot cooperate with you."

How did that work? If he didn't cooperate, were the Sentinels and Enforcers going to go about and cause trouble? There wasn't much the Sentinels could do against us, so was the Monarch planning on just staying here and not helping us? If it was, than I had a plan. "If you don't cooperate with us and help us get back to _Earth_, than our entire race will be wiped out by the Covenant. Listen, in the end, our Government won't really care _who_ you helped as long as _you _get back to them, okay?"

"Analyzing possibilities..." The Monarch said, and a few moments passed before its voice returned. "Possibility analyzed. Percentage at ninety-four percent; no change imminent. All right Reclaimer, both me and 16807 Fleighted Fire will disengage from opposing you and continue to assist you in returning to Erde-Tyrene."

The Monarch's voice then disappeared.

Letting out another sigh, I sat on a nearby metal crate, breathing more sighs of relief. Lighter joined me, hovering next to me where it halted and began inspecting the graze I had on my shoulder, cooing quietly as he began massaging the area around the wound.

I knew it was just trying to make the pain go away, but it was failing, and it only made the pain worse. I politely pushed Lighter's tentacle away, patting its head to reassure it that I wasn't mad at it. I then raised my head, remembering something

"Timmy, is Larson alright?" I asked the AI.

"David Larson -Codename: Constrictor- has been stabilized by Fireteam Titan and Embers. The bullet damaged a lot of muscle tissue in his left leg and shattered his Tibia and Fibula while also rupturing his Popliteal, Tibial and Peroneal arteries and damaging multiple blood vessels."

"And N- Courtney? What's happening up there?"

Timmy answered. "All of the crew have been released from their designated barracks as per Captain Jsarez's orders, and the members of Fireteam Location, Hazard, Ebony, Vector and Marshal and Private First Class Cedric Marstern have are currently being moved for detaining in the barracks. As for Captain Jsarez: She is currently discussing recovery plans."

I nodded, sighing in relief that Location or Hazard didn't do anything and the Gravemind just didn't tell me. _(Notwithstanding my succor, you persist in your qualm) _Great, the Gravemind began speaking in its 'advance, riddled vocabulary again'. I shook my head in annoyance before widening my eyes in realization.

"How about 'Lodam, the Hybrids, Fireteam Night, Joyce and Day; what about them?" I asked Timmy.

"Fireteam Night are still stationary in the officer's lounge and Captain Jsarez is already putting together a team to go and relieve them of duty as per my recommendation. Doctor Hallas Day and Campbell Joyce were in Doctor Day's lab in an attempt to remain out of the conflict. I have alerted them of the situation, and they are on-route to Captain Jsarez's location where they plan to peacefully surrender. Elite Ultra Thel 'Lodam and his soldiers are in the brig with the Hybrids as you may already know. The Hybrids have acknowledged that the conflict is over, and await further instructions while 'Lodam refuses to leave the brig upon my recommendation that he do so."

I got up off of the crate. "They can stay there for all I care." I coldly replied, hoping Timmy would know that my aggression was not directed at him.

"I will not continue my persistence then, sir." Timmy replied.

Letting out another sigh, I leaned against a nearby wall and slid down it until I was seated on the ground, leaning against the wall. Lighter hovered over me and lowered itself so it was kind of sitting on the ground next to me.

I actually felt relaxed. The mutiny was over. I just hoped that no more trouble would occur on our journey back to _Earth_.

Thinking like that fucking jinxed it.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE<strong>**:**

Okay, I admit that I kinda cut the mutiny down from ending next chapter to ending in this one. I don't suppose any complaints will rise up since Vale Nar 'Sarasee will be in the next chapter!

I plan on having the next chapter focus on Vale Nar 'Sarasee, and the chapter after that just being an update on what is happening in 2555 where a few things will be clarified.

I'll now answer the questions you may have about why Fireteam Hazard and Location surrendered when they were just a bunch of assholes. Well, both Hazard and Location were at the crew-quarters section of the ship, and they were surrounded by other mutineer Fireteams that surrendered not a few seconds ago when Timmy ordered them to. So, they knew going against Courtney just out of own, personal, stupid pride would get them killed. So, they just did what they had to do to survive. Doesn't mean they're not a threat anymore ;)


	35. Awakening

_I floated through the abyss, in bliss._

_All was pitch black as night—the ground, sky, surroundings. Despite visibility eluding me, my subconscious was present._

_I knew who I was. But I did not know where I was nor why. I was certain that this was not the eternal darkness. But this was what death felt like—it had to be. But if this was a mock of the eternal darkness, then what did death really feel like? Like this, but without my subconscious?_

_Why was I even so close to death? My name was Vale _Nar '_Sarasee. 'Nar'? I was a Fleetmaster. What else? My Fleet was large enough to attract the attention of the High Council._

_There was suddenly a gunshot. A Jiralhanae weapon—the Mauler._

_I heard the dark laughter of a San'Shyuum along with pain racking through my body. What had happened in the realm of life?_

_I smelt Sangheili blood. I heard my own roars of anger and shock with an image flashing through my mind._

_There was a young Sangheili Minor with a large bloody hole in his head. The Minor familiar to me, but the memories of him were absent from my mind. This Sangheili meant a lot to me—that is all I knew._

_"You would make a fine Elder." I felt a hand touch my shoulder, but cocking my head to it, I could not see anything; nor my body. "And a better Kaidon." I remembered those words from so long ago. Yue 'Sarasee spoke them to me. He may not have been my father, but I always considered him so._

_That was one custom within Sangheili culture that I understood. A fair start for all offspring no matter the status of their parents. I did not agree with it._

_I wanted to know my son. I was ready to face the entirety of my race crashing down upon me for defying our ancient laws and customs. I wanted to groom my son to have a similar mind to me—to surpass me as a leader. I could not rely on Yue to make the best out of my son._

_It never came to pass. My wife contracted a rare disease that prolonged her period of laying eggs and severely weakened her resolve and strength. One egg was delivered, but that killed her. Per law, the egg was considered an abomination, born of disease. It was required that the egg was destroyed rather than incubated._

_The memories brought great pain to my state of bliss. My own personal guards held me down while the birth assistant took the egg away and destroyed it._

_That was the only time I ever showed weakness. I had both my personal guards and the birth assistant executed. Their heads and entrails were hung from my keep's walls._

_But as weak as I was, I was stronger. This state of bliss, this mock of the eternal darkness—it was my weakness. And I would never succumb to weakness, Sangheili culture, or the Prophet of Pity._

_My patience had depleted._

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1404 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-[****Medical Hall,**_** Everlasting Retribution**_**, In Orbit Above Central Covenant Outpost, Installation 06]**

* * *

><p>I slowly opened my eyes, suppressing my weakness to the abyss.<p>

I instantly closed my eyes when I saw that above me was a bright light. I was lying on my back, and it felt like I was on a hard surface. My first thoughts were of the medical hall.

I felt a Sangheili's hands rest on me with a distorted voice entering my mind. I used all my focus on clearing my mind; I knew the first question a wounded Sangheili was typically asked in a situation like this.

Finally, with much pain going through my mind at the effort I put into clearing it, the voice came through without distortion: "Fleetmaster, brother—can you hear me?"

Not daring to speak, I instead slightly cocked my head—_yes_. Even the slightest movement of my head caused me an enormous amount of pain. Suppressing the pain, I listened as the Sangheili continued: "What do you desire: A sword, or a doctor?"

I still could not speak. I instead brought my hand up, ignoring the pain, and held up two fingers.

"Doctor," the Sangheili concluded, and he hurried off.

As I had hoped, the noise of the Maulers must have bought the attention of other Sangheili patrolling outside the Prophet's quarters. But did they ask why I was being beaten, or did they assist me without asking the Prophet of Pity the reasons behind my assault? The bodies of the Honor Guards may have told them what they needed to know, and they concluded on the spot what had happened.

I was thankful that Careekius knocked me unconscious so shortly into my beating to relieve me from the pain of his hard limbs smashing into me. I hoped he was fine in health. I hoped he was not too hard on himself. I hoped the Sangheili that came to my assistance did not kill him immediately.

But so far, I was alive—which must have meant that chaos had not broken out in the fleet to an extent that I could have been executed by Jiralhanae traitors. If anarchy was absent, then Careekius must have survived for there to be order.

With my eyes still squinted against the blinding light, I heard the two sets of heavy hooves tread across the hard ground, over to me.

"Be without movement," a doctor order me in a voice full of authority and aggression. "This may hurt."

I felt a pain-relief needle go into my neck, and my nerves went afire with pain surging through my mind. I gritted my mandibles together to resist the pain that was barely bearable.

"The pain shall recede momentarily," the doctor told me, his voice having some reassurance in it, but still having that authority.

Judging from being able to move my mandibles to grit them, I concluded that tending to me physically must had already come to pass while I was without consciousness. All that remained was pain, and perhaps broken internal structure. I did not fully know the overall extent of Careekius's damage, so I did not know how bad my injuries were.

I began to feel the inflammation withdraw and found moving my mandibles easier. With my mandibles moving fluidly—but not without pain—I tried uttering a word to test my speech while also asking an important question. "R—. . ." I cocked my mandibles, adjusting them. "Re-rep . . . Repor- report?"

The Sangheili that was over me when I awoke spoke: "The heretical bastard of a Prophet has been seized and detained within brig, and the Jiralhanae barbarians to have complied with the Prophet of Pity's heresy have also been arrested, and await either your or the High Council's judgment."

"Caree . . . Caree—"

The Sangheili stopped me before I harmed myself: "Chieftain Careekius is a hero among the fleet in all eyes. It was him who personally seized the Prophet of Pity upon the reaction forces arrival to the Prophet's quarters."

So Careekius was safe. A relief surged my mind upon hearing this. And to some more relief, many respected him.

Feeling my mandibles get better and less heavy with pain, speaking became easier. But my vocabulary was still primitive. "Summon—immediately."

"I sent for the Chieftain upon fetching a doctor. He ordered to be informed as soon as you left your forced slumber; he should arrive shortly," the Sangheili explained.

I clicked my mandibles in gratitude, going against the pain. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Fleetmaster. I live to serve you."

Me? Not the Covenant? How far did my warriors' loyalty go? I was not planning on finding the answer to that question, so I directed my train of thoughts onto another. But there was no thought I could occupy myself with that did not bring up the speculation of what may have happened.

Instead, I did something physically to take away the thoughts I had; I exercised my mandibles. The pain began to subside and my speech began to recover to its full extent. Careekius was smart enough not to attack my face, but he did once to force me into unconsciousness. But he did what I desired; the pain was nothing compared to what it could have been.

The majority of the pain was mainly in my ribs and chest, locations where Careekius focused most of his beating. My legs also had a considerable strain; walking would be a challenge. An anti-gravity chair would be required.

But I wanted to at least be able to stand over the Jiralhanae who caused this before I ordered their heads removed. I would not take their lives myself out of morality; if I took theirs lives, vengeance would consume me, and I would lose myself to the weakness of emotions as I had once before.

I would not take the Prophet of Pity's life either. But I would bring about the biggest trial in the Covenant's history, and make him a Demon to children. The Prophet of Pity hated being looked down upon; making him not even be worthy of looking down upon would be the gravest insult to him and the greatest victory for me.

I focused on how I was alive. So many things could go wrong. Not implementing the medical tables sized for Sangheili would have led to me dying of the lack of medical assistance as these were more than mere tables; they had surgical and nutrition tubes that doctors would connect up to a wounded member of the Covenant to provide them all with what they needed to survive their wounds.

Many criticized me for putting an effort towards medical equipment for Sangheili due to the tradition demanding death in combat and forbidding medical treatment.

I would no longer allow this. If any member of the Covenant were wounded, they would be forced medical attention with or without their consent. And no Sangheili among my fleet would kill themselves in response to some dishonor they held.

The methods I planned on implementing would likely cause many to curse me out, and destroying free will was not something I wanted as my legacy. But I would rather die as a villain than let my warriors die out of a false sense of honor—honor within my race's culture was gravely misconceived

I was thankful that some dishonored criminals among my race took up the offer of being doctors. These Sangheili were mostly convicted criminals who had lost their place on the path. Receiving an offer to be a doctor may not regain their honor, but it would regain their place on the path.

After my mandibles had healed enough for my speech to return to its normal, fluid patterns, I began to ask questions and make requests. I started with a single request: "Doctor, could you remove the light above me? I wish to open my eyes."

"May I be damned for not doing so sooner. Forgive me." The light disappeared, and I opened my eyes which caused me pain, to no surprise—but it felt good.

My vision was groggy and blurred and I could feel a crusty substance surround my eyes. I carefully lifted my arms and began using my fingers to dig the crust away. Just touching my face sent pain ringing through my head; I had to be careful and use the tips of my claws carefully.

Once the crust was gone, I turned my face to see who had helped me. The one that was with me when I awoke was a Sangheili Major who was unfamiliar to me. It was likely just an overseer for me. The doctor, I was not surprised to find, was in no way recognizable as someone I met before. But he was most definitely a criminal with all the tattoos he cut into himself—a rare criminal tradition—and the mark of shame on his chest, visible through his robe.

After examining the two Sangheili to the side of the table I was on, I began to analyze the room. Despite my vision being blurry and the ratio of turning my head being limited, I did see two Kig-Yar laying on similar tables to my own, tubes connected to their vitals. A Jiralhanae lay on a table closer to me, a doctor tending to him.

The Jiralhanae seemed conscious and was a Captain Ultra. What grabbed my eyes, though, was the purple blood in his teeth, and the two, thin holes in his stomach that were surrounded by burnt flesh and fur. He was stabbed by an energy blade for something that I could only dread to consider.

"Brothers, why does that Captain Ultra have Sangheili blood in his teeth?" I asked the two Sangheili.

Both turned to the Captain Ultra. The Major explained, "When the Prophet of Pity first ordered your beating, he also sent orders among the fleet for all Jiralhanae to attack Sangheili. It was a dire situation that only Chieftain Careekius managed to quell. But during the chaos, the Captain Ultra serving the Prophet of Pity took the bodies of the Honor Guards and of Minor Skae 'Kuzomee and feasted upon them. There were only bones when we found and subsequently seized them. Most resisted and died. Some resisted and survived. That Jiralhanae—" The Major pointed at the Captain Ultra, who noticed we were talking about him, "—falls into the latter category. He only lives so you may kill him later if you so desire. He is the reason I am here—to make sure he doesn't try anything to bring about harm to you."

I nodded slightly as the Major told me. I had no plans for killing the Jiralhanae, but I would see him dead. This one was in no shape to suffer a trial, and I was not willing to extend out patience for him. "Major, execute him immediately."

_"WHAT?! YOU DARE?!"_ the Captain Ultra roared, shocked.

"Hurry, before he gives me a headache," I urged, my voice remaining indifferent despite me just deciding the fate of a life. It had been a long time since I ordered the death of a brother along the blessed path. Every time I did so, it was hard—very hard.

The Major nodded and I watched him approach the struggling Jiralhanae, pull out his energy dagger and slit the Jiralhanae's throat. A gurgling sound followed blood pooling from the beast's mouth and wound. I did not let remorse consume me as I watched the life leave the Jiralhanae's eyes.

Moments later, Careekius came into the medical hall, helmet under his arms. He took a glance at the dead Jiralhanae before looking at the Major. "Did he try something, brother?"

"No. The Fleetmaster ordered for his immediate execution," the Major said.

Careekius looked at me. No doubt he was rather shocked by my sudden brutality, but he appeared to put it aside and approached me, placing his helmet on a table to my side. "Brother, please tell me that I acted how you wanted me to. If not, I will take my life at your request."

I clicked my mandibles, amused. "You couldn't have acted more in my favor. Chieftain, everyone aboard this fleet owes you a great deal of gratitude."

I saw relief shine in Careekius's eyes. "Had I know beforehand, I would have acted—"

"I know," I reassured him, keeping my voice light. "But regretting the past will only bring about pain for the present. We underestimated the Prophet of Pity, and Skae 'Kuzomee and many good warriors died for it. What matters is that justice will be served, and this event will be remembered."

Careekius nodded. "I know. I just don't understand what the Prophet of Pity must have thought to do something so drastic and unneeded. I promise I'll speak against him when the High Council summons me."

"It is actions like that which make up for any mistakes you may or may not have made," I said.

Careekius shamefully lowered his eyes. "I did make mistakes . . . I found the Prophet of Pity's anger amusing when it was dangerous. I should've seen sooner, but—"

"I found it amusing as well, brother," I confessed, gesturing my hands along with my words.

Careekius burst out laughing. "You are too stoic!" He choked, almost falling over from laughing. He was right, but I was not planning on changing for any reason; my trademark composure was one of my most effective weapons.

"No. I just do not have the ability to laugh," I jested, keeping my voice stoic to add to the jest.

Careekius let out another loud laugh._ "You? Laugh? Impossible!"_

He was right. I could not show my emotions even if I wanted to. The more composed I was, the more those around me would respect me. The only time I ever broke my composure was during a situation like Chieftain Literus attempting to kill the Prophet of Pity, or when the Stalkers ambushed us inside the Prophet's quarters—which would return to being mine.

After Careekius's laughter died down, I carefully sat up on the table, the doctor, and the Chieftain helping me up. My eyesight was getting better, and the pain in my mandibles was distant. But my body itself was still on fire, and even sitting up took it out of me. It was hard not to slump back down from exertion.

"Shall I summon an anti-gravity chair?" the doctor asked me, his voice still not without authority. He may have been speaking in an insolent matter, but I cared not. It was to be expected from a convicted criminal.

A Sangheili would usually refuse an anti-gravity chair out of pride or honor. But I needed to get back to my duties as soon as possible; pride was nothing but a foreign concept to me. "Yes," I replied indifferently so they knew that I cared not for their opinions on my decision.

The doctor nodded before hurrying off, leaving the medical hall. As he left, two Sangheili Minors came in and began moving the body of the dead Jiralhanae, lifting him over to an anti-gravity table before directing it out of the medical hall. As they left, two Unggoy came in and began mopping the blood.

"You were right," Careekius suddenly said, turning my gaze back to him. "We encountered the Parasite."

A number of thoughts went through my mind. The main one was getting every Covenant member on Halo back onto the safety of the ships immediately and initiating the biggest quarantine operation in the Covenant's history.

"How have you acted on this?" I asked the Chieftain, my voice stoic to show that I was not fazed. Little did he know, I was internally scared.

"I've pulled all the ground forces back onto the ships after I had them checked for any symptoms of the Parasite from the records made by the Forerunners. All have been declared clear. I also sent a team of Jiralhanae to secure a Forerunner weapon facility that was discovered by a recon team earlier. I believed that the gifts left by the Gods may assist us in defeating the Parasite."

"Jiralhanae?" I questioned him, letting a slight amount of confusion into my voice. "Not Sangheili?"

Careekius nodded. "At the time, many Sangheili would not comply with me. I was lucky to get all the Sangheili warriors back onto the ships, but they only did so because they believed it's what you would have wanted. Securing this facility had been considered my own personal agenda to them."

I nodded. "I understand. But what did they find?"

"Weapons and armors. Items that would defeat the Parasite and only make the Great Journey's inevitable initiation sooner," Careekius explained, no excitement in his voice. The absent of his usual enthusiasm led me to the conclusion that something had happened.

"What occurred?"

Careekius redirected his eyes from looking at me and distantly stared at a wall. "The rouge Oracle initiated a variable of a fail-safe procedure that destroyed the facility and the Jiralhanae team I sent to secure it."

"I'm sorry to hear that. These Jiralhanae must have had the extent of your absolute trust to be assigned to such a mission."

"They were close to me," Careekius confirmed. "And their death was not news I took lightly. But I remained composed in front of my pack; I mourned in silence."

"Smart."

The door opened and the doctor came back in with an anti-gravity chair behind him

"What is the status of the Humans and Heretics?" I asked Careekius as I leaned my legs over the table, ready to move over to the anti-gravity chair.

"They have not re-emerged from the tunnels. Shipmaster Yexyn 'Sarasai believes that they may be moving within the tunnels, and has spread the search fleet around to other shafts of the tunnels." Careekius helped me into the anti-gravity chair. "But we had to pull back when the rogue weapons of this holy ring began attacking us. I am sorry, Fleetmaster, but there—"

"—Never apologize for making a decision to save the lives of those who follow your command," I sternly reminded him, grunting in pain as the doctor helped me get comfortable in the anti-gravity chair.

"Right as ever. But back to the topic: Brother, I don't think we'll be able to stop the Humans and heretics from leaving this holy ring."

I began moving the anti-gravity chair out of the medical hall. Careekius and the Major followed me. I said, "I shall commune with Shipmaster Yexyn on how we can act on this. Qrs 'Jaragsai will likely have a substantial involvement in any future plans against the Humans and heretics that I desire to be enacted on." Qrs was the only one I could trust with my actual goals of contacting the heretics.

I exited the medical hall and realized that I still had not decided what my destination was. "I shall also need to send a message to the High Council relaying the information of the Parasite—"

"—I have already done so, brother," Careekius said.

"I can assure you that not many Jiralhanae would have done so. Commend yourself, Brother—your intellect will bring about a long and prosperous future for you."

"Thank you . . ." Careekius looked down both corridors to our side, trying to figure out which way we were going. "_Ah_ . . . Where is our destination."

I turned the anti-gravity chair the way I wanted to go. "Things seem in check. Spread the message of my awakening to the fleet—for I have other tasks to focus on; I plan on speaking to the Prophet of Pity."

" 'Speaking'?"

"Yes. Fear not, brother, I don't plan on having him executed; it's out of my legal jurisdiction, so I plan on the High Council to seal his fate. Of which, I assume you sent a message to the High Council regarding what happened?" I asked him as I directed my anti-gravity chair.

"Yes."

"It is a great thought to know that there are those within the Covenant with intellect equal to my own," I said.

_"Thank you, again."_

The rest of the journey to the brig mostly consisted of Careekius informing me of the conflict. There were a lot of Sangheili and Jiralhanae casualties, but Careekius emphasized how he kept the situation under control. It, at first, seemed like he was boasting, but I quickly realized that he wanted me to know that nothing was wrong.

Around halfway to the brig, two Zealots, Gyn 'Etromee and Cares 'Ridekee, approached me.

"Fleetmaster, it is good to see you awake," Gyn said as they both knelt before me.

"Thank you," I said.

Gyn and Cares were among the twelve Zealots in my fleet that were sent from the Ministry of Fervent Intercession. Var 'Lultamee was another along with Jal 'Farimee and Tez 'Gzantralee, both of whom had been killed by the Demon while they led a team to secure the Forerunner facility back on the other side of the portal.

"With your permission, we desire to escort you to your destination," Cares said.

"Forgive us for the transgression of asking so—but Jiralhanae among the fleet may secretly support the heretic Prophet," Gyn added.

"Of course." I gestured for them to rise. "Major?"

"Yes?" the Major, whose name I discovered was Escal 'Barasee, asked.

"You're dismissed. Go relax."

"Yes, brother," Escal said. He turned and walked back down the corridor, the way we came.

With the two Zealots forming up on my side, all four of us continued to the brig. It was not long before we arrived at the brig that was full of Ultras being led by Zealot Hal 'Kanee.

"Fleetmaster." Hal hurried over to me and bowed in respect. "It is such a relief to see you so well. But I must warn you—"

"—I do not mean to end the Prophet of Pity's life, only to speak with him."

"Forgive me for such an assumption," Hal apologized, rising and signaling to the Ultra near the cell control terminal on a dais at the far end of the room.

The Ultra nodded in compliance and placed his hand out on the holographic controls, making the hardlight door of the Prophet of Pity's cell fade away.

Much to my surprise and amusement, the Prophet of Pity came running out of the cell. He was grabbed by two nearby Ultras and forced back inside, screaming.

I twitched my mandibles, humored. Careekius literally fell down laughing. The Prophet's lack of walking skills made it even more amusing as he almost stumbled a few times on his crooked legs.

I directed my anti-gravity chair over to the Prophet of Pity's cell, the Zealots following me and Careekius quickly getting back up and doing the same. The Ultras walked past me just as they exited the cell and I saw that they chained the Prophet of Pity up for his insolence.

The Prophet of Pity looked up at me, a big smile on his face. "Fancy yourself a Prophet?" He chuckled. "Such arrogance is_ heresy_!"

"Silence," I told him, chilling my voice.

The Prophet of Pity shot up. "YOU_ DARE_ TELL_ ME_—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—TO BE_ SILENT?! HERESY!_"

I gritted my mandibles, irritated. "If you will not remain quiet, I shall bind your loose mouth."

The Prophet of Pity's eyes widened in shock. "_YOU DARE_ THREATEN_ ME_—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—WITH SUCH A THREAT TO BIND MY—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY'S—MOUTH?!"

I turned to Gyn. "Bind his mouth."

"Yes, Fleetmaster." Gyn left the cell to find energy braces.

"YOU MISERABLE_ COWARD_! HOW DARE YOU! I—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—AM_ THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY!_ YOU CANNOT TOUCH ME—THE HOLY PROPHET OF PITY—IN_ SUCH_ A WAY!"

"I am well within my rights," I coldly reminded him as Gyn came back into the cell, bindings in his hands. He approached the Prophet, who began lashing out at him, even though his hands and legs were chained.

The Prophet of Pity managed to get his mouth around an unarmed section of Gyn's arm and bit down so hard that I smelt blood.

_"YOU!"_ Gyn pushed the Prophet of Pity away from him and backed off, holding his arm. "Barbarian!" He snapped.

Careekius let out a chuckle, approaching Gyn before snatching the bindings out of his hand. "Face it, Sangheili—there are just some things that the Jiralhanae can do that you cannot." Careekius then put a paw around the Prophet of Pity's throat and held the gagging San 'Shyuum back while he tied the bindings around his mouth.

The Prophet of Pity let out muffled screams, but none of it was recognizable as words. Leaning up in my anti-gravity chair, I addressed the Prophet of Pity, coldness and anger in my voice as I spoke every word. "I would not waste time or Zealot Gyn's blood on you were it not for a reason. News of your heresy has no doubt reached the High Council's minds by now, and when High Charity arrives, every member of this fleet will speak against you. Your name will go down in the history of the Covenant as an arrogant, corrupt coward whose only role in life was to annoy and murder many loyal and worthy walkers of the sacred path before his head was parted from his long, thin, strangle-worthy neck and mounted on a pike for all the Covenant to see."

I took a breath and continued, "There will be no escaping death and ridicule for you; I will personally make sure of that. The High Council will not be able to protect you—not this time. _You will die_. And I shall be there. And the jest shall be on you—the Holy Prophet of Pity."

The Prophet of Pity began screaming uncontrollably at me, but his words were not understandable. But as I was about to turn around and let my intimidation tactics and anger seep into him, I quickly snapped my head to the Sangheili Minor that just appeared behind the Prophet of Pity.

Skae 'Kuzomee. But it was not him; he was dead. I was seeing an apparition of him out of some type of guilt deep down within me. I felt guilty for his death because I did not predict it and could not prevent it. He died because of my naivety to the magnitude of the Prophet of Pity's violence.

The apparition of Skae stared at me, not speaking. If he did not speak, then this was not an apparition but my subconscious torturing me. I waited a few moments, the screaming of the Prophet of Pity in my mind and the confused eyes of the Zealots and Careekius on me.

It was not him. I felt rather saddened that it was not him for I had many things to say to him. Careekius told me a sermon was already held for him and the others who died; I could not speak to him via prayer unless I had a Prophet or Cleric initiate another sermon.

Seeing Skae like that, I came to the realization on what I had just said, and why I was where I was. "I am sorry," I apologized to the Prophet of Pity, who instantly stopped screaming and widened his eyes in confusion. "I vented my emotions on you, and that was weak of me. While everything I spoke will happen to you, I don't need to go out-of-my-way to make you focus your mind on it; that was wrong of me, and I apologize," I turned to the confused Careekius, whose eyes could not be wider. "Brother, please remove the Prophet of Pity's bindings."

Careekius shook himself out of his shock, nodded, and approached the Prophet of Pity and removed his bindings.

The Prophet of Pity did not scream once the bindings were removed, much to my surprise. He instead looked up at me, hatred in his eyes.

Wondering something, I asked him, "Tell me, why did you do what you did? You must have known the consequences—why did you do it?"

"Because as sick as you were of hearing my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—constant 'arrogance', I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—was_ just_ as sick of your insolence. Emotions blind people, Fleetmaster. I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—did not consider the consequences to my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—anger. But you also didn't consider the consequences of your insolence—"

I put my hand up to halt him. "Skae 'Kuzomee's blood is not on my hands; it's on yours."

The Prophet of Pity glanced at Careekius then the to Gyn, Cares, and Hal. "Fleetmaster, I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—wish to speak to you alone._ Just_ you—no one else._ Now_."

I addressed the others "All of you—please leave us."

Without a word, all left.

Alone with the Prophet of Pity, I wondered why he had changed his attitude so abruptly. He said d, "You are right, Fleetmaster: Skae 'Kuzomee's blood is not on your hands. But it is on my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—hands but not mine—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—alone."

I shifted in my anti-gravity chair, ignoring the pain going through my ribs as I did so, keeping both my attention on the Prophet of Pity and the apparition of Skae. "Explain," I urged him, circling my hand in unison with my words.

"I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—lied. The reason I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—really did what I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—did wasn't of annoyance and wasn't even_ directed_ at you."

The Prophet of Pity took a breath and continued. "It is no mystery that you are the Hierarchs' pet. And they plan on using you to the very end; and similar to Thel 'Vadamee, you are the Covenant's most important instrument. The reason I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—attacked you and tried to kill you was to strike against the Hierarchs; it wasn't out of vengeance. But I—the holy . . . I am sadistic, insane. There is nothing denying that. I got carried away; I_ forgot_ why I wanted you dead in the first place. But know that I considered my consequences. But death means_ little_ to me. That was another reason I did it; I didn't want to live on lies anymore."

I leaned forward, eager to hear what he meant. As I did, Skae's apparition disappeared. I paid no heed to it, more interested in the Prophet's lack of third-person mention. "What did the Hierarchs do to make you not fear death like you obviously do?"

"_ 'Obviously'_?" the Prophet of Pity laughed. "That was an act; death will be something I welcome with open arms. Hmm . . . To be honest, I wanted to keep their secrets to myself and let your race rot away. But now—oh, it would be_ so much more interesting_ to see what happened," The Prophet of Pity began laughing hysterically. "Oh—why did I not think of this before? Despite my knowledge, Truth still considers me but a_ minor_! Why did I not try to make him see that he underestimated me_ earlier_?"

"What are you talking about? Speak," I demanded calmly.

The Prophet of Pity's laughter ceased, and he looked me dead in the eyes. "Why are we at war with Humanity, Fleetmaster?"

"Because the Humans desecrated the Forerunner relics, and the God's willed their destruction."

"LIES!" The Prophet hissed, slamming his clenched fists onto the ground in anger. "Humans_ are_ Forerunners, but were left behind when the Forerunners transcended to the divine beyond!"

Despite this reveal, I was surprisingly composed both physically and mentally. This could be a trick, but putting the puzzle pieces together, I discovered that his words were authentic. I leaned forward in my chair further. "Continue."

"Oh,_ Yes_! It all started when we first encountered Humanity. The current Hierarchs—all three of them—learnt that the Humans were the Reclaimers. Of course, they kept it to_ themselves_! They discovered that the Covenant were not the Reclaimers, and if a few of our Gods didn't ascend to the divine beyond, what guarantee was there that the Covenant would ascend? _NONE!_ Instead, those three bastards decided that instead of revealing this to Covenant, why not take advantage of it and have those who don't care for the Great Journey become their protectors?_ Forget_ about ascending to Paradise; they just wanted to make it that San'Shyuum_ always_ remain in power of the Covenant! The Great Journey, Fleetmaster, is the eradication of_ both_ the Humans and Sangheili while making the Jiralhanae our protectors! Then, the Prophets will always remain in control of the Covenant! They will always have_ absolute power_! That is_ all_ that Truth cares about:_ Power_!"

I nodded, keeping myself composed. I believed everything he said; it all made sense. Why the High Prophet of Truth did not want me to seize the Prophet of Pity after Var's body was discovered; it was because if I did, Pity would disclose this to me in retaliation. And Careekius knew; I felt it in his body language during recent time. He only just found out from Pity, and he was less than pleased.

"Don't believe me?" Pity asked.

"I believe you," I said, lowering my anti-gravity chair and getting off it. It hurt to be on my legs with the truth and the pain of Careekius' assault weighing me down. "But how do you know?"

"Truth summoned me for a meeting—nothing important—" Pity waved dismissively "—just a meeting relating to usual political nonsense. Arriving earlier as I_ always_ did, and entering his quarters on High Charity quietly as I_ always_ do, I overheard him communing with Regret and Mercy about it—early in the war with the Humans, it was. I remained silent and pretended that I knew_ nothing_. But Truth knew, and he queried. Instead of killing as I feared, he decided to_ use_ me and asked me if I wanted power. But I never received any—_that's_ why I'm m telling you this." He raised his head to me as I calmly approached him. "He plans on killing both Mercy and Regret—I know it! He wants the Covenant all_ to himself_!"

"The rogue Oracle?" I questioned him. "The heretics? Is that_ more_ of your lies?"

"The rogue Oracle was not rogue, no," Pity admitted. "And the heretics . . . They consist of that team that went missing."

"Thel?" I asked, my voice mixed with different emotions. "Why did he not come to me?"

"He did," Pity said with a chuckle. "I just manage to get to him before he got to you."

Craning my head so I was looking Pity directly in the eyes, I approached him. He let out a shocked squeal of realization. I grabbed his throat, and with one quick tug, I snapped his neck.

Pity's body fell limp back onto the ground, blood pooling from his spinal bone that was sticking out of his neck.

Kicking his body off of my hoof, I turned back around and limped to the exit of the cell. Careekius had heard Pity's scream, and he rushed into the cell with Gyn and Cares behind him. His eyes widened when he saw Pity, and he rushed past me and knelt over his corpse.

I turned to Cares. "Give me your blade."

Cares did not act, and just stared at me in shock. Not waiting for him to comply when he was absent-minded, I took the blade from his thigh myself and turned back around to face Careekius back.

"Face me," I coldly ordered him.

Turning to face me, I saw the realization in his eyes. He knew why I killed Pity, and there was remorse within him. But that did not stop him from charging me. I anticipated this, activated Cares' blade and brought my arm forward in a slice.

As I suspected, Careekius dodged. But I expected this, and quickly cut him off. His eyes widened as I brought the blade up and slashed forward. The blade sliced through his neck, as though there was no tough hide protecting him, and I drove forward until my blade had cut straight through the young Chieftain's neck, and both me and Careekius tumbled past each other.

As I came to a stop, I heard the sound of Careekius's severed head hitting the ground. I turned just in time to see his body follow, pinkish-red blood bubbling from his stump.

Gyn and Cares along with Hal and the other Ultras guarding the brig all stood either in the cell or just outside of it, all shocked at what they just witnessed.

I deactivated the energy sword and tossed it back to Cares, steadying myself against the wall. Pain was surging through every inch of my body over defending myself from Careekius's attack, and I could barely stand. But I remained standing, and I looked up to my warriors and prepared to address them.

"Brothers. Comrades . . ." I steadied my breathing.

Gyn growled, charging me, drawing his blade. I did not suspect this, and I immediately dodged.

"HERETIC!" Gyn growled, swinging his blade back around which cut across my chest. I let out a pained grunt as my chest lit up with the fire of pain. Back-stepping, I dodged an attack from an Ultra who also charged me.

This was my race's typical logic: Attack first, ask questions later. If they would just listen, I would tell them what was told to me by the Prophet of Pity. I, at first, wondered why they were attacking me after Careekius charged me but concluded that they must have thought that Careekius was merely trying to seize me for killing the Prophet.

These Sangheili thought I was a traitor. Out of being mentally hurt from believing such from one they looked so highly upon, they attacked me absent consideration.

The Ultra swung his blade back around, but I dodged it. "Brothers—w-wait!" I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears as the Ultras hoof landed into my chest, sending me back where I landed among the crowd of angry Sangheili warriors.

I felt Hal's armored hands grab my throat, and he picked me up and brought me close to his face. He hissed, splattering drool across my face. He then threw me into the crowd and out of the cell. This was the chance I needed. No longer having the group of three Zealots and a dozen Ultras in my way, I quickly rose to my feet, pushed all the pain in me aside, and sprinted from brig.

My entire body burned, but I did not halt my haste. Knowing that these Sangheili would execute me without heeding my words, I could not take my chances to stop and try and sway their opinion. This only proved how emotions could blind one. They came in and saw that I murdered a Prophet and also saw me "murder" a Jiralhanae Chieftain that they believed was only trying to seize me.

I always believed the loyalty of my fleet was the most important thing I could have had. But now I saw that the more loyal one became, the more violent they would be when they suspect that you had betrayed them.

I tried to control my breathing, but it grew progressively worse. I was slowing down, and that was not good.

Seeing a Sangheili Minor ahead in the corridor, I ran towards him for help.

"Fleetmaster?" I heard Rirst 'Amonee's familiar voice say aloud as he grabbed me and supported me up.

"Rirst, you must help me. They—" I instantly reacted to Rirst's energy dagger he had hidden that was now lunging towards my stomach. I had forgotten that the Ultras and Zealots had likely issued into account my betrayal across the ship.

Despite admiring me, Rirst was longing to kill me with a hidden dagger. But I quickly grabbed his arm before the blade made contact with me and swung it back around where I latched onto his hand and used it as a weapon, driving it and the dagger into his throat.

Rirst let out a gurgle as purple blood flooded between his mandibles and he fell to the floor. Remorse flood me, but I went for his plasma pistol and energy sword and turned to see the Ultras and Zealots turn a corner I just turned. Wasting no time, I broke back into a sprint and continued fleeing. The only reason they had not already caught me was the armor they were all wearing. But despite me only wearing robes, the wounds I received were slowing me down.

It was not just physical strain holding me down, but mental stress as well. I had to defend myself from Rirst's attack. Rirst could have seized me, but he too was hurt by my apparent betrayal. Now, the others would only see my self-defense as another murder. There was no negotiating; I was doomed, and I had no idea what I could do.

I should not have killed the Prophet of Pity. But knowing that so many died going after Thel and the Demon was a breaking point for me. Knowing that Thel was so close to me yet I did not know took its toll on me. Like I was so long ago, I was weak. I was blinded by my emotions, and it had led to more dying. I was not perfect, and I did not care. I would redeem my mistakes, and I would make those responsible for them pay.

I was getting closer to passing through another door when it locked shut. The bridge was securing all the doors in my way. I was trapped.

Remembering a tactic, I drew Rirst's energy blade and began cutting through the door. It was a slow process, but the ionized plasma was faster than usual blow-torches used by engineering Unggoy, Yanme'e or Huragoks.

Cutting a sizable hole in the door, I kicked the metal back and passed through the makeshift door before immediately breaking into another sprint. But as I feared, the next door ahead of me locked shut. Just as I reactivated Rirst's energy sword, the door opened back up again. Was someone on the bridge helping me?

I deactivated Rirst's energy sword and raced through the door that closed behind. Door after door opened up to me, and I ran through only to have them shut and lock behind me.

The next door did not open for me. Instead, the door to my side opened. The door led to an observation deck.

With reluctance, I ran through the door and down the length of the following corridor until I met the observation deck.

The door shut and locked behind me. I was trapped. But that was only until the hardlight shield coating the viewport deactivated, and a breeze of fresh air blew against my skin, blowing away my sweat.

Confused, I slowly approached the window. Once I reached it, I carefully leaned my head out and looked down.

Though there was a large lake near the base of the portal that beasts native to this ring went to for a drink, but the _Everlasting Retribution_ was not orbiting it; I could not jump down into the lake.

But I did not need to. A round figure came up from Halo's surface and appeared in front of me, sending me tumbling back away from the window.

Landing on my backside, I shook my head from the shock and looked up towards the figure. "An Oracle?" I asked aloud.

"There is no time—grab onto me," the Oracle ordered, voice broad, thick, and in Sangheili dialect.

I was not about to refuse. I rose, ran towards the window and leaped out, grabbing onto the Oracle. My body was set alight as I tried to hold myself up.

"Hold on," the Oracle said as it began to descend to the surface of Halo. Herds of small animals fled as we reached the surface, and I let go of the Oracle and toppled onto the ground, coming to a stop shortly after rolling onto my back.

"Are you okay?" the Oracle asked me, floating over me as I laid on my back, breathing in relief and fatigue.

"No."

The Oracle scanned me with a blue light originating from his central eye. I did not bother moving; if it wanted to kill me, I would already be dead.

"Your injuries are serious but are momentarily quelled. I am thankful that your primitive medical systems delayed your termination for this long. The Reclaimers' medical equipment should assist you—"

"—The Humans?" I asked, supporting myself up with my bloodied hands.

"Affirmative," The Oracle said.

"They would tend to me?" I curiously asked it. The thought of having Human medical equipment connected up to me was unnerving, but the Oracle said that my death was only delayed; death was still possible for me, and that was not an option.

"They have tended to members of the Diverted; they should not omit you."

I narrowed my eyes."Thel? Do you know a Sangheili named Thel 'Lodamee?"

"Once. He is now called Thel 'Lodam."

I narrowed my eyes further. "So—he has heard what I have heard," I concluded.

"About Halo's true purpose and the true Reclaimers? Yes. I told him personally—he did not take it well."

Pain was raging through my body, but all bad things must end. "Halo's true purpose? You mean that not all walk the sacred path?" I asked.

The Oracle began moving its eye around in confusion. "I believe that the extent of your knowledge is limited compared to Thel 'Lodams."

"What do you mean?" I asked it as I began looking around. It would not be long until aerial units laid chase to me.

"Now is not the time for elaboration—we must leave."

"How?" I asked. There was not possible way that we could escape the area before Banshees, Phantoms, and Spirits began searching for me and ultimately find and kill me without question.

"Follow me. The Sentinels of this Installation shall guard us, but we must move fast." The Oracle floated off in the direction I had to go. Having no other choice, I followed.

Hearing footsteps other than my own, I turned to my left to see the apparition of Skae. Ignoring my mind's tricks, I turned back around to face straight ahead.

What a terrible rotation it had been so far, and the sun had not even broken the skyline yet.


	36. The First and the Last

**(Courtney Jsarez)**

**Present Timeline...**

**[DATE]****-****[September 13, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[10:37 -Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Aft Quarter Section, Room-B07, Aboard Unknown ONI Orbital Facility, Orbiting ****_Earth_****]**

* * *

><p>Pacing was all I could do, and it was all I <em>would <em>do.

Dean was leaning against the wall to the left of the door, sighing, wondering what he could say in response to the words that just exited my mouth.

What I _really _needed him to do was hug me. Albeit, physical contact with a male was difficult. Not with Dean, however. We had something akin to a contract. We were in a relationship that could be called that of a boyfriend/girlfriend scenario, but it was so much more complicated. We didn't kiss -I believed kissing to be the product of love. I didn't love Dean like that. Kissing was also something Eric enforced during that night of infamy. I didn't think I could ever had my mouth submitted to anything other than eating again.

We did hug, however. Hold hands and show other such displays of affection -only in private. As silly as it sounded when I ran it through my head, our relationship was likened to a guardian/teddy bear. I felt an unusual warmth when hugging him. This contradicted so much I used to believe. I felt uncomfortable around males of the crew of the _Kryptonite _-even Dean, at one stage. That all changed when I grew confident in him, and placed trust in him. I couldn't ever sleep with him or kiss him. Not because I didn't trust him, but because it was something that bought about the worst of my memories.

"I won't abandon you," Dean finally said, "I promised I would look out for you, remember?"

I did remember. I remembered how we both got drunk off out asses and slept with each other, waking up with both a headache from the hangover, and a headache from what had just happened. I still couldn't recall what happened during our lust, but it was something that we both didn't want to remember. The morning after, we talked about what happened, and one thing led to another until we agreed to a supportive pact. He would be there for me, and would never leave me.

So, why would I ask him to not fight for me if ONI punished me but agreed to his and the rest of the crew's freedom? It was one of the stupidest things I asked of someone.

"Sorry I asked such a thing," I apologized, stopping my pacing as Dean pushed off from the wall and walked over to me. "Kinda stupid of me."

He gestured, "Can I?"

I nodded, giving him permission to hug me me. I buried my head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. I could hear his heartbeat, the rhythmic booming only making my massive sigh of relief more relieving.

Despite only knowing him on a personal level for a few weeks, I felt like I knew him for years. It was something I couldn't explain to even to Lynda. Red, maybe. But after the look he gave Dean the other day, I wasn't so sure I should actually confirm it for him. Twins had tendencies of becoming jealous.

"You going to be alright?" Dean asked, rubbing my back. Despite not being good with women -his words- he knew how to make me feel comfortable around that of the opposite sex. He may have had a bad time finding G-spots, but he was so supportive.

"Hm, hm," I mumbled, gently pulling away from him.

He nodded as the station's AI, Black-Box, came over the room's intercoms. "Sorry to be a cockblock, but your escort has arrived."

I ignored the AI's remark. It didn't know my and Dean's relationship. But, then again, that was even more a reason for him to keep to himself.

Dean kept to himself as well, but lightly grunted at the AI's remarked, standing behind me as I turned to face the door, straightening myself up. I wore a serious face mixed with authority. Such was required at the time; I needed to show everyone that I wasn't afraid to be going to meet Parangosky, I wasn't afraid of her wraith. I was sure Dean was wearing the same face.

When we had first arrived at the ONI facility that I and the rest of the _Kyrptonite's _crew was currently being detained at, we were all escorted to the brig and detained -save Red who was quickly shuffled away to an interview room. Oddly enough, the facility's commanding officer got orders from the Commander-in-Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence (Parangosky) to release us and assign us all quarters.

This was odd as I swore Parangosky would be out for my guts. Maybe this was some type of attempt to lure me into a false sense of security. If it was, then Parangosky lost her touch -it was too obvious.

The door hissed open, a red and green SPARTAN IV standing on the otherside, clad in the shiniest armor I had ever seen.

I had no idea what type of armor the SPARTAN was wearing, but it looked _too fancy_. It seemed to me that ONI wanted their new SPARTANs to reassure the public more than to fight battles. So, Red's legacy was nothing more than to give Sci-Fi nerds boners and reassured troubled wives whose husbands were in service that Humanity had all it needed to prevent a massacre similar to _every _battle previously fought with the Covenant.

The SPARTAN in red and green armour that stood out as something intimidating stood to attention and saluted me. "Ma'am," He cocked his head to Dean, "Sir. SPARTAN Derek Johns, Fireteam Cyclone, reporting for duty."

I narrowed my eyes. He didn't say his rank which was out-of-place for a soldier that had already shown a decent amount of respect to me. Ignoring it, I returned the salute before I shook his hand as he held it out.

"Nice to meet you." I replied in a friendly tone, trying to maintain a sense of confidence.

He nodded as he bought his hand back. "Likewise, uh..."

I rolled my eyes, anger and annoyance rising in me. "Well, ONI _really_ want me to keep to the regs after everything? _Don't_ play dumb, soldier; you _know_ who I am, my rank, and why this turn in the conversation has been taken, so please tell your bosses that I can't give a second shit about the regs, and hurry up and deliver me."

To my surprise, the SPARTAN smiled. "Well, what they say about you _is_ true. Well... _almost _all of it."

I cocked my head in confusion. "_'Almost'?_ What's the shit that they've been saying about me?"

"Well, that you're mentally unfit and shit like-"

"_'Mentally unfit'!?_" I scoffed, hearing Dean let out a sigh of disbelief. "Who's been saying this?" I asked.

"Other members of my team. And just the crew in general."

I let out a sigh. "Propaganda. That's to be expected, I guess," I turned my attention back to the SPARTAN. "What made you change your mind about me being a psycho?"

"I never thought you had psychological problems, ma'am, just that you were pissed at ONI to the extent as the others were saying. I mean, I know _personally _how bad a hatred for ONI can get."

I turned around to Dean and gave him a parting nod before walking past SPARTAN Derek and out into the corridor with the SPARTAN following me. Dean understood that he wouldn't be able to accompany me. So he'd stay in the quarters, ready to support me once I came back. If, I came back. I was pretty sure Parangosky wouldn't allow me to say goodbye if she decided my fate was death or incarceration.

"Have you got problems with ONI as well?" I asked SPARTAN Derek, addressing his earlier mention of his knowledge on ONI hatred.

"Can't say here, ma'am. BB doesn't like me talking about it. Just know that you're right; the hatred _is_ personal."

I narrowed my eyes as we both turned a corner. "So, you and ONI had past grievances, yet they still employed you as a SPARTAN?"

"They wanted the best-of-the-best for the job." He explained.

I scoffed. "Of course. Who else could represent Humanity as a species?"

The SPARTAN let out a slight chuckle in his calm voice. "I hope ONI isn't using us to represent Humanity because the majority of us are fucking douche-bags."

"Yeah," I agreed with the SPARTAN named Derek, remembering Enterarj and his goons. "I've seen your point."

Not long after leaving my quarters we ran into Warren Fisher and Tobias O'Reilly -two ONI employed private contractors who went by the name of 'BlackBird'. They were decent, but I harbored a grudge towards their AI who indirectly sent us flying into a shit covered fan.

"Off to see the boss?" O'Reilly asked. Despite being ONI, I liked the two out of a mutual respect we had for each other's opinions on certain situations. We all hated ONI which basically sold it for me.

"Yeah." I nodded, walking past them for them to both just fall in with us.

"Nervous?" O'Reilly asked in his usual careless and friendly tone. Out of both the two, I liked O'Reilly the most. Fisher was alright as well, but his cliché 'strong and silent' personality was getting tired for me after dealing with so many Marines who had similar personas.

"As much as one would be when they're about to see Parangosky." I replied indifferently.

"You don't know." Fisher said. As per usual with him, it wasn't a question and stood as a statement. Unsurprisingly, both him and Wade Tulnai got on well enough.

"Don't know what?" I asked.

"Parangosky isn't Commander-in-Chief any-more, Captain." O'Reilly answered.

My eyes widened. The old bitch had to have been near death by now. Why I didn't figure this out sooner pissed me the _hell_ off. But at the same time, I was relieved. Perhaps this new Commander-in-Chief wasn't as bad as Parangosky, and mightn't order my head removed.

A lot of questions I had about the recent circumstances was just answered, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Despite having Timmy delete all the records of the shit I talked about Parangosky, I knew that Day or Campbell may had been a problem, and killing the two wasn't an option for me -morality issues sucked.

"Why the hell didn't anyone tell you?!" O'Reilly asked aloud. "You must had been shaking in your boots!"

"Hell, O'Reilly, I was shaking _so much _that I couldn't _wear_ boots." I replied.

O'Reilly let out a chuckle before Fisher spoke up. "O'Reilly, we have somewhere to be."

"Oh, right!" O'Reilly replied in a 'That's right!' tone.

I stopped and turned around just as Fisher had turned back around and was making his way back down the corridor. O'Reilly watched as Fisher left and turned back around to face me. "Sorry, he's an ass."

I smiled with O'Reilly smiling back before he turned around and hurried after Fisher. From what I picked up, Fisher didn't really tolerate O'Reilly and had a hard time working with him.

The rest of the trip to my destination contained nothing more eventful, and just consisted of me thinking up the correct words I would use when meeting this new Commander-In-Chief. Sure enough, I could had asked SPARTAN Derek for the name of the Commander-in-Chief to see if I knew who it was and have a better understanding of the words I should use, but I decided to just wait.

As I suspected, I would not be seeing the Commander-in-Chief in person. I would instead be sitting on chair in front of a table with a mug of coffee and a bowl of fruit on it. Beyond the table and covering the entire wall was a huge screen. And the room I would be in was small -too small.

SPARTAN Derek silently gestured to my seat that I calmly took before he left, the door hissing shut behind him and making the iconic _ding _sound as it locked.

I eyed the coffee mug for a few seconds and decided not to drink from it. True, if they wanted me dead they could easily put me in front of a firing squad, but this was more of a statement than caution.

A minute passed since I entered before the screen flickered to life to show a woman around my age with a cold face staring at me, seated with the wall behind her displaying two Office of Naval Intelligent symbols, in her hands was a datapad.

She was Parangosky 2.0.

"Good morning, Captain Jsarez, I am Admiral Serin Osman; Commander-in-Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence. I'll start by first apologising for detaining you. I specified to this facilities' commanding official to follow protocol textbook style, but excluded any exceptions -detaining you was one such exception. I hope you'll be able to put aside this misunderstanding, and continue to cooperate with us at the levels you currently are."

I straightened myself in my seat. "With all due respect, ma'am, but is this an act? Are you always so close to following the formal regulations, or is this an act of some type?"

A smile appeared on Parangosky 2.0's face. "Neither. My predecessor groomed me for years to take over her position, and she never told me to show mercy to my enemies. You're not my enemy, Captain, so I'll keep to the regulations."

I went back on something she said. "You sure I'm not your enemy? Not even after Campbell and Day's interviews; and they _were _interviewed, so please don't deny it."

Parangosky 2.0 put her datapad down on the table she was seated at and crossed her arms across her chest. "I know how much you hated my predecessor, and I know of the threats you made towards her, and I understand."

I could barely contained letting out a sigh of relief as Parangosky 2- Osman continued. "But, Captain, you need to understand that while Parangosky sanctioned the SPARTAN-II Program, she did _not_ sanction everything Doctor Halsey committed in the Program. The flash-clones was one such action that Parangosky disapproved on-"

I broke in. "You think that makes it _better? _I _still_ lost my brother whether a clone replaced him or not!"

"I won't protect my predecessor's decisions, but I won't condemn her, either. Think about, Captain, were it not for the SPARTANs, Humanity would be extinct, the Halos activated, and the universe wiped clean of life-"

"That wasn't the plan!" I reminded her, my voice showing more and more anger which wasn't good, but I couldn't stop it. "The SPARTANs were created to fight _Humans_, not fight the Covenant and 'save the universe'; so don't give me the bullshit that what Parangosky and Halsey did was to save Humanity!"

Osman let out a sigh. "Your points are valid, but I still won't think ill of my predecessor. Doctor Halsey I will, but they both saved me-" I frowned out of confusion. "-If it wasn't for the SPARTAN-II Program, I wouldn't be here."

"You're a SPARTAN." I concluded.

Osman nodded. "I failed the augmentations, and Parangosky picked me up," Osman ran her hand through her hair. "I'm not naive to think that my initial hatred for Doctor Halsey wasn't fed to me by my predecessor, but I _do _despise her after reading her journal. Most of what my predecessor told me about Doctor Halsey was true, and the extents that Halsey went to make us into machines was a lot to take into consideration. You need to put this aside, Captain, I'm not going to lock you or your brother up over your understandable anger, but you need to promise me that you won't act against the Office of Naval Intelligence."

I lowered my head as I began musing. The mutiny that bought about so much death was unneeded... Would Parangosky had been similar to Osman if she was still the Commander-in-Chief? Was Osman telling the truth? Or would she betray me?

"You'll just let us all go?" I questioned her, raising my head to look at her through the screen again.

"Yes. All of you. I've seen family members reunited with SPARTAN-IIs before, and I know how much pain Doctor Halsey and my predecessor inflicted onto you. Whether he saved Humanity or not, your brother was _still _conscripted without his parents consent along with 74 other candidates, and while I can't give the years lost to you and him back, I can guarantee you _any _future you want."

"Just like that?" I asked her. "You would let us go and supply us with _anything?_"

Osman smiled. "I see not problem with it -currency these days is only digital. I'll get you a chip, and you tell me the numbers you want on it. I'll also be able to supply you with constant support in all matters; there's no limit to my arm's reach. Name what you want, and I'll give it to you."

I did my best to remain composed when all I wanted to do was scream in anger and relief "You _won't _kill us over what we know?"

Osman shook her head. "I doubt it will be long before the SPARTAN-II Program's origins becomes public anyway, but even so, I don't want you exposing it; you owe me that much at least."

Everything I ever feared was me being paranoid, and a lot of people died because of it. That blood was on my hands now, and I had to live with myself knowing that my stupidity got dozens of good soldiers killed. I couldn't believe I was not only escaping punishment, but also being given compensation. And while no amount of wealth could make things between me, Red, and ONI right, I couldn't even consider refusing it. Parangosky was probably dead, so I couldn't get revenge on her. But what about Halsey?

"You said you'll do anything?" I asked for a confirmation.

"Yes. Name it."

"I want Halsey's head."

Osman shook her head. "So do I. Unfortunately, Doctor Halsey still has some use for us. But with the help of the Engineers and other Forerunner creations, we're finding less and less use for her. I promise you this, Captain, when the day comes, I'll send you VIP invitations for Halsey's execution; I'll even let you be in the firing squad -I may even join you."

I nodded. "Fair enough. Okay, second request, I want to leave; me, my crew, Red-"

"A shuttle to Sydney will be leaving this evening which I expect you and all your crew to be on. Your brother will have to remain here until we can finish interviewing him, and remove the Gravemind's Spore. That same Spore told Red that we planned on using lethal force to disable his brain before using certain Forerunner technology to make his 098 personality become the lead personality again, but this is a lie. What isn't a lie is the chances Red has of surviving what we have planned; they're low, Captain."

I nodded, trying not to tear up. "I know. But, you'll do the best option for him, right?"

Osman nodded. "There's no safest option, so the best will be it. I'm really glad we were able to come to an understanding, Captain. Now, I'll let you get back to your quarters. I'll give you a shard of BB who will be able to contact me at any-time from anywhere."

I couldn't believe what happened. Yes, there were the chances that Osman could betray me, and that this was some type of sadistic trick to make me feel safe and secure before destroying it all, but I doubted that she would harm another SPARTAN, and I would be sure to ask around about her to make sure myself. But with everything I had just heard, there was one thing I _really _needed to do. "I have one last request."

Osman slightly cocked her head. "Name it."

"I need to find someone named Eric Maine."

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>

**Present Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[September 13, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[11:29 - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Interviewing Room-02, Aboard Unknown ONI Orbital Facility, Orbiting ****_Earth_****]**

* * *

><p>Lieutenant George Kirkland took a seat opposite me, picking up his datapad off of the table in between us. "ONI interview. Incident 071824260, session 10 -continue."<p>

Nai had just left the room where she spoke to Serin, and the Gravemind had just finished telling me what had transpired, and I. Was. _Pissed! _After everything we had feared and went through, everything we had tried _so hard _to prevent, we found out that _none of it _would had happened. It would had been _helpful_ if the Gravemind told me this. _(What disparity would ensue had I conveyed these tidings?) _None, I guessed, but it would had bought us comfort- I instantly picked up on the Gravemind's meaning.

While the Gravemind eventually ceased trying to bring about harm to others on the _Kryptonite,_ it still enjoyed making me and Nai stress to _extreme _levels, going so far to purposely show the figures to distress us.

While I waited for Kirkland to begin, I began examining the guards in the room. The Gravemind had previously told me that each were hired professional marksman who all were equipped with a holstered experimental weapon. The Gravemind also told me that a number of the facts relating to how they would deal with it was wrong. They didn't intend on taking control of me again by somehow making 098 the main personality, nor did they intend to detain Nai and the others. It was all just annoying lies that the Gravemind told me at the time to increase my stress levels. It didn't help that Kirkland decided to go along with it for some damned reason.

What they were planning that _was_ true was to use lethal weaponry to basically destroy my brain. EMP weapons wouldn't work as the electromagnetic pulse wouldn't instantly reach my brain, so as soon as the bullet hit me, the Gravemind could quickly kill me before the pulse hit my brain. A bullet round from the weapons these guards had, however, was different. The rounds were small, and moved faster than any round in the UNSC arsenal; practically Forerunner tech -which it was. If they fired that round at my head, it would take me out before the Gravemind could even react. These guards were also equipped with some type of 'mind shield' which prevented the Gravemind from reading their minds, so he couldn't predict when one was going to fire of a combat situation broke out.

With both weapons and neural implants being developed to combat the Flood, this must had meant that ONI had done its research, and put more than enough funding to develop technology to battle the Flood should a battle occur.

For once, the Gravemind was outmanoeuvred. But I feared that it would kill me as soon as the story ended. Its plan would fail, yes, but it'd take me with it. _'Me'? _I meant _us. _All of _us._

Kirkland straightened up in his seat and turned his attention to me after he found what he was looking for. "Tough couple of days, I see. What Lieutenant Dorhan did _was _right by his standards, and I doubt many would curse him over it, but he misconceived a lot of things. But, I'm curious, you seemed rather upset when I first revealed this, so, it didn't end just like that?"

I nodded. "Dorhan's actions had a-a chain affect, yeah. We all thought it was over and done with, but we were _so _wrong."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry; really, I am."

I nodded as my eyes lowered from remembering what happened. "Thanks, sir."

"No problem. So, shall we get back to this so you can go home?"

I raised my gaze to him. "I'm not sure if I _will _be going home... the Gravemind... I think he's gonna kill me."

Kirkland gave me a reassuring smile. "I won't give you any false reassurance, but I promise that your sister will be looked after if you _do _die."

I returned the smile. "Thanks, sir."

Kirkland nodded, but his face morphed into that of Johns. John was old, but I didn't get to study his face long for an unknown variant of MJOLNIR formed around him as everything around me turned a blinding white colour.

The armoured John floated back as the chair and table he and I were seated at disappeared. John then shifted into a half T posture where a blue light began surrounding him. This was obviously the Gravemind's doing, but it was different from all the other visions it gave me.

Directly to John's right, a larger figure appeared, this one clad in Forerunner armour but also in a half T posture and surrounded by a blue light. Next to appear in the middle of the two with the white light passing _her _body was what looked like an alien female hovering slightly off the ground.

The female alien held out her right hand towards the Forerunner and her left to John. She then slowly moved her hands together which in turn moved John and the Forerunner closer together. Eventually her hands connected, and when they did, both John and the Forerunner dissolved into each other.

"Sierra?" I shook my head as the present returned to me, and I saw Kirkland looking at me, the worry on his face residing.

"You okay?" Kirkland asked me, his tone returning to its normal one full of nothing but emotionless -as was custom for ONI agents.

I nodded. "Green, sir. Just another vision."

"What of?"

"I'll tell you once I figure it out, sir."

Kirkland straightened himself in his chair. "The Office of Naval Intelligence has made a lot of baffling discoveries over the years you were away. If you would tell me, it may connect with something we already know."

"Yes, sir," I complied with a following nod of respect. "It's- um... this is new, okay?" Kirkland nodded before gesturing for me to continue. "I saw John, you know? Sierra-117. I saw him in a motionless like shape, surrounded by blue light. To his right is what I think is a Forerunner who was in a similar state -if not the same. Between them a female alien appeared; I think she was also Forerunner. She held out the appropriate hand towards John and the Forerunner before bringing her hands together. As she brought her hands together, both John and the Forerunner follow suite until they both got so close that they dissolved into each other. That's when it ended."

Kirkland nodded. "You're right. There's nothing we know that we can connect to that."

I nodded in acknowledgement. But deep down, I knew that this was much more important than I originally thought.


	37. The Mind Behind Monsters

**(Courtney Jsarez)**

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[0756 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Captain's Office, UNSC ****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate:****_ Kryptonite_****, On-Route To Non-Designated All-Service Tunnel Exit, Installation-06]**

* * *

><p>"Tell me something, doctor," I said as I paced around my desk. "what is the cause of all evil? What lies deep within someone, that when unleashed, defines that someone to violence."<p>

While I awaited Doctor Campbell Joyce's reply, I turned my attention to the datapad in my hands. On the small screen was several images of the now deceased Gunnery Sergeant Ivan Roras. Other images appeared of the mutilated body belonging to Lieutenant Amber Wong.

Lieutenant Tuscany Clad and Sergeant Major Jeff Woods both didn't take the news of her death well. Tuscany now isolated himself, and I had recommended him for regular sessions with Joyce -along with the other half of the crew. Jeff seemed to be holding up better; his limited connection to Amber helped, but he was still, nonetheless, taking it hard. I thought about recommending him to Joyce, but remembered that he was already seeing him over his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Survivor Syndrome.

Among Clad, I had also recommended the surviving doctors from Roras's wraith to see Joyce, Brian Davis who definitely had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder along with Tom Harvad who was showing similar symptoms.

The shell-shocked Marine we encountered during the Mutiny would also be seeing Joyce -once we could get him to talk again. There was a number of other people who would also be speaking with Joyce -Red and me included for various reasons.

If I wasn't subjecting my crew to talking with someone they may despise, I was reconstructing Fireteams and judging what mutineers would be safe to release. After hours of speaking with the COs, I came down to the decision that all the mutineers other than Fireteam Location and Hazard were safe to release. Location and Hazard remained in the brig, and I moved the Hybrids to one of the ship's hanger bays.

Fireteam Night was another problem. I released them as they seemed to hate ONI as much as I did, and didn't show any signs of back-stabbing us. But I wasn't going to go without caution, so I promoted ODST Sergeant Major Tyler Hauver to Major and gave him command of Fireteam Night along with making him the commander of all the ODSTs aboard the _Kryptonite_. I didn't suspect that the members of Night would willingly stand aside; Franti even said that he was glad that he didn't have to rely on commanding any-more, and said that he would do whatever Hauver ordered as long as it didn't put the rest of his convicted friends into danger that would certainly end in their deaths.

'Fair enough' was what came to my mind upon hearing this, and I let it slide. Fireteam Night was now on an op with the reconstructed Fireteam Wreckage -which consisted of Red, Tulnai, Freud, McAllister, Dalton, Collins, and White. Lynda advised me that permanent reassigning people to other Fireteams wasn't very good for moral, so I decided to make sure that each Fireteam would be constructed on members required at the time -save Night who all worked well together.

Wreckage had the best-of-the-best at the moment because I needed the best-of-the-damned-best to go with 'Lodam and save this Fleet-Master's ass. I was fucking pissed to hear that the Monarch went to save the Fleet-Master without my say go.

'Lodam came to me asking to go and ensure that the Fleet-Master got here safely. I initially refused, knowing that the Monarch -and the thousands of Sentinels kicking back the asses of the Covenant army going after them- would be fine.

But they _weren't _fine. Apparently, a Covenant special force detachment managed to disable some of ring's particle cannons in the area that the Fleet-Master and Monarch was in, and it would take a few hours to fix. With the particle cannon deactivated, hundreds of Banshees and Phantoms were smashing through the Sentinel defences with ships providing barrage as well. It wouldn't be long until the Covenant forces caught up to the Fleet-Master and Monarch.

So, the Monarch was about to be fucked over. This was not an option, so I had a few Pelicans prepared with Fireteam Night, Wreckage, and the Diverted along with Sentinel reinforcements go out to assist the Sentinel and bring back this Elite commander. When they got back, I would kill 'Lodam for asking the Monarch to go and save the Fleet-Master when Red mentioned that he was in trouble _without _my permission to do so.

It took about a minute for Joyce to reply, and when he did, it was quite simple. "Monsters. _No one_ is without them, and you just have to hope that nothing happens to unleash those monsters."

I shook my head, saddened by the images as I put my datapad down onto my desk before turning my attention back to Joyce. "How did Roras's monster become _'unleashed?'_"

Joyce came over and took a seat on the couch in my office where he folded his hands, leaned forward, and let out a sigh. "I talked to the members of Fireteam Night a lot about this, and they haven't told me anything that points to Ivan being sexually abused as a kid. His actions alone also speak lengths."

"So, he just did it because he could?"

Joyce nodded. "It's a bit more complicated than that. As you've seen, he didn't exhibit and traits of self-control, and it's not usual that people do it because they seek sex so much that they couldn't care less about the laws."

I began rubbing my chin. "But why children?"

Joyce leaned up in the couch. "There's a lot of reasons for that. Sometimes, it's for strategic reasons. Kids, you see, don't scream as much if their younger. Grown women know what is happening to them, and are more likely to report abuse, but children at a young age don't, and don't realise that what is happening to them is wrong."

I stopped pacing and took a seat on my desk. "That doesn't seem like Roras's forte."

"It's not," Joyce confirmed. "I think he did it to victimise the children. Clinical pedophiles often than not find joy and sexual arousal in victimising girls. For instance, when I was young -really young, mind you- I used to chase down ducklings because I wanted to hear them cry for their mother. In this situation, I was young and had a messed up interest. But when it's an adult pedophile, you may, want to target the young because their _so_ young and innocent."

I nodded as he explained. "I often find it upsetting when an animal dies. Not as much when it's fully grown Humans, because they know that when they die they die because the worlds are messed up places. But animals, they don't. They don't know why they are being killed. I once watched a movie where a puppy was beaten to death by this sadistic teenager, and it saddened me -not because it was a puppy, but because it didn't know why it was being hurt, it didn't know that it was moments away from dying, it didn't know what was happening, and it just _really _upsets me that such innocence was being harmed without even knowing that it is."

Joyce nodded. "Yeah, that's similar. I've dealt with clinical pedophiles before, and I've heard of motives similar to what you're saying."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "One motive we don't understand, is why he did what he did to Amber."

"Ivan seemed to had a lot of fantasies. One such was victimising young female children, and another was lust murder. According to Franti, Roras had been talking about committing a lust murder for a while, but apparently never mentioned it before, so it must had just came into his head. And his ideal victim type were females he previously abused when they were children. I don't think he would had done it to anyone other than someone he already victimised."

I rubbed my eyes as they began squinting. "This is _beyond _messed up."

"Indeed," Joyce agreed. "And unfortunately, there's plenty more out there."

"Do you ever hope for some type of Utopia?"

Joyce nodded. "It's naive to hope for something as far-fetched as a 'Utopia', but others don't need to know of my hopes. It's just a little dream I have; nothing more, nothing less."

I nodded in both agreement and acknowledgement, but widened my eyes when I saw the figure standing behind the couch Joyce was seated at. The figure kept reappearing to both me and Red for more than the past twelve hours, and it was starting to get disturbing. The figure was one of the reasons I summoned Joyce to my office.

"Doctor... I need your help on something." I said, keeping my eyes on the demonic figure which was shaped like a hybrid of both me and Red, bloodied and naked

"yes, or course -what can I do?"

"Me and Red... we're seeing figures -and I _mean _demonic figures." I explained.

"That would explain the outbursts that Lynda told me about. She's worried about you, and rightfully so. I could probably connect this to Schizophrenia, PTSD, even Sleep Paralyses, but it makes it hard if _both _you and Red see these figures. Uh... could you give me a bit more information on what you see?"

I continued to stare that the figure as it smiled at me with its non-Human mouth, trying to keep the fear off of my face. "The figure's usually an explicit mash-up of both me and Red... its genitals are disturbingly mixed with Red's penis and testicles protruding from my vagina. Um... its mouth is the only thing not belonging to me and Red; being more of a reptile mouth fitted onto a Human face. It also often morphs into a person I personally know. One of the most common people he morphs into is Eric."

Joyce bought out his datapad and began using his stylus to write everything I said down. "This is really unusual, Courtney, and I can't see much I can do as every doctor out there is already at their limits with what they can do to help you and Red in your telepathic abilities-" Joyce finished writing and turned his attention to me. "-you and Red, you've both defied logical explanation. But I _really _doubt that any mental illnesses Red contracts will transmit to you. No doubt you'll feel the stress and other emotions Red will may feel once a trigger for a mental illness occurs, but you won't be able to _actually_ cause those triggers on your side."

I began rubbing my chin again. "Yeah, I figured as much. I actually had the theory that the Gravemind's involved, but the Gravemind seemed _just_ as baffled when it first happened as we were."

"It eluded the Gravemind?" Joyce asked, writing down what I said onto his datapad.

"Yes."

"Well, if what I've heard is true, than the Gravemind knows everything that goes on inside Red's head, right?"

_(Accurately calculated.) _"Yeah. The Gravemind just confirmed it." I informed him.

Joyce wrote that down. "So, technically, any mental illness of Red's can't bypass the Gravemind's knowledge, so this isn't a mental illness." Joyce began rubbing his chin. "Maybe the Gravemind's causing this and it doesn't know?"

"The Gravemind does seem able to control the figure's appearance to some extent. It's not constantly with us, and the Gravemind managed to stop the first dream we had with it. But it denied having anything to do with it-" _(Alteration needs to be implemented in this subject of colloquy. Initial query countered with prior comprehension. Neoteric comprehension conveys-) _I was getting annoyed with the Gravemind's speech patterns; they weren't smart, and it only led to me asking what the hell it meant -which in turn annoyed it. _(You have limited comprehension to your bloods advanced vocabulary in the word form: 'English'. Such illiteracy spares no expense in extending a vast amount of irritation from me.)_

Being lectured by my enemy was the last thing I wanted. All I wanted was to know what was the Gravemind first saying before I pissed it off? _(My first answer to your query was reflected upon by my current comprehension on the semblance. Now new knowledge swarms through my roots on the origins of the semblance.)_

"Captain?" Joyce called after I didn't answer his question that I didn't even hear.

"Sorry, what?"

"Can the Gravemind tell us anything we don't know?"

I nodded. "I was just communing with it."

Joyce gestured for me to continue as he prepared to write down all I told him. "Go on." He urged me.

"Well, at first, it didn't know what was happening -baffled, like I said. But it apparently ain't so baffled with some answers that it's _just now _telling me it has." _(There was no relevance to speaking of these tidings until I had enough to satisfy my own queries.)_

Joyce nodded, writing down what I told him on his datapad before gesturing for me to continue. _(He is right. I am causing this, but not willingly. My presence is inflicting a mental problem that is too being inflicted upon you by your almost supernatural like link to him. It cannot be stopped; only hampered.) _"The Gravemind says you're right about it causing the hallucinations, but it's not doing it willingly. It says that it's presence is affecting Red's mental state as well as my own -since we're both connected via some type of telepathic link."

"That's not surprising," Joyce remarked, rubbing the back of his head. "A deadly alien organism having the biological access to Red, like the Gravemind has, is _sure _to cause a mental problem that's out of our comprehension. Didn't the Monarch or Monitor say that this tactic was used on Forerunners before? Maybe they have an idea on what it is."

"I'll speak to them. Thanks, doc."

He returned the friendly smile. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help, Captain-"

"Actually, you can," I broke in. "I have another situation I need your help with."

Joyce nodded, gripping his datapad. "You can tell me anything, Captain."

I narrowed my eyes. "_Can I?_"

Joyce let out a sigh, leaning back in the couch he was seated on. "No, not really. When we get back to _Earth,_ if Parangosky doesn't have me immediately executed, than I'll be interrogated until I spill the beans on everything. But just so you know, I won't do it willingly."

I smiled. "Not a huge fan of ONI?"

"They pretty much forced me to spy on your crew. Apparently not doing so was a breakage of an article that _I swear _they made up on the spot. By law, I didn't have to comply, but that would be crossing Parangosky-"

"Nobody crosses the queen of bitches and lives." I finished him off.

"I assume you're not having Timmy record the slang you're directing at her?"

I shook my head. "Timmy's under _my _orders now -not ONIs. I'm having him record everything on the ship _just in case, _but he'll be deleting it once we return to _Earth._"

"Good idea." Joyce remarked.

"Thanks. Well, I won't keep you much longer, so I'll get straight to the problem. Red came to me and said that he thinks he has Dissociative Identity Disorder."

Joyce's face didn't have any surprise on it. "I originally had that theory as well, but I couldn't support it as there's a few missing puzzle pieces."

"Such as?" I asked.

"Does Red remember everything from his childhood?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he remembers everything. Why?"

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me that alter personalities were created by Red's mind as a young child to cope with the hard and brutal lifestyle that was inflicted on him. But, if he did had DID, than it would be highly probable that the alter personalities he created had the _bad _memories. Uh.. let me sum it up in an easier way. The mind creates alternative personalities to hide the bad memories in. The fact that he isn't missing any memories really doesn't support him have DID."

"But there's exceptions, right?"

Joyce shrugged. "Well, it's not impossible, and odd cases _have _occurred. But if Red had DID, than it would be because of childhood trauma he had."

I began musing, trying to figure out the explanation behind this. "What about Red's 098 personality?"

Joyce nodded. "That is a bit odd. I have no doubt about the theory that Red's 098 personality was created by his mind to allow him to evolve through the physical and mental training. His reports say that out of all the SPARTAN candidates, he was the most rebellious one. If he wouldn't evolve, but his subconscious needed him to evolve, perhaps the 098 personality was made to allow that. But usually alters don't replace the main personality, so 098 having control all these years is unusual."

"But, it _could _happen?" I asked.

"Maybe. But another reason I doubt this is because of Red's personality _now. _Normally, when an alter takes control, the other personalities are unaware of what's happening. For instance, if I had DID, and one of my alters took control of me and talked to you, I wouldn't know what you were talking about when I retook control. So, Red being evolved and mature as he is seems odd because _if _the main personality resurfaced after all these years, than the personality wouldn't be developed. But instead, 098 -an alter- developed its personality as got older, so that's really odd, and Red seems to have retained all of 098's memories and experience which is also odd."

"But not impossible?"

Joyce shrugged. "I really don't know, Captain, I'll have to go through _all _the records and see if a case like this has happened before."

I suddenly thought of something else that may prove useful. "Another thing. remember Smith, right? You regularly saw him if I'm correct."

"Malcolm Smith? Yeah. Is death was unfortunate and unnecessary-"

"Why did Red kill him?" I asked. "098 never cared about the Diverted enough to lash out, and even if he _did, _it goes against his training to kill another soldier. And Red, he doesn't care about the Diverted either. So, who got pissed off at Jol 'Turasee's death?"

Joyce nodded as he mused on it. "You're right -that _is _odd. Alright, I'll make an appointment to speak with him and see what I can assess. But it'll be hard with the Gravemind there."

I placed a hand up to halt him. "Me and Red already discussed this problem, but the Gravemind said he would release his control a bit to let the personalities out. It says it wants to know what will happen out of curiosity-"

"Courtney?"

I frowned in confusion. "Yeah?"

Joyce straightened himself up in the couch he was seated on. "You speak as if the Gravemind know the alters are there."

I thought on that and quickly scolded myself for not remembering what the Gravemind had said. _(Human intellect never ceases to amuse me.) _"Fuck me. That's right. Fuck me, fuck me."

"So the alters _are _there," Joyce mused. "If so... what horrific personalities other than 098 is inside that mind of his?"

_(Monsters that are ready to be unleashed.)_

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[0819 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Aboard Pelican Dropship Charlie-4-1, On-Route To Assist Monarch And Sangheili Fleet-Master, Installation-06]**

* * *

><p><em>I was comforted by the loud roars of the Pelican's engines. It reassured me that nothing was wrong.<em>

But sounds could be as deceiving as looks. For so long, I had relied on sound to live. Would it ever change? Would I ever go through a day without raising my head to the slightest bang of a door, or slam of a cup?

But I was just over thinking things. My head still rung from the surgery that I went under _-again_- to have my normal neural implants put back into my brain. It didn't seem like there would ever be an end to my brain being fucked around with.

Hopefully it wouldn't become a trend. It would soon be over, and new problems with ONI would arise. It was nearly four hours until the _Kryptonite _would reach the exit hatch, and something had gone wrong -_again. _I wondered if there was some deity watching over us and if it hated us. So close, yet tensions were high. I was just calm and happy to have my faithful MJOLNIR armour back.

Exiting the all-service tunnel via a smaller tunnel was risky, so we had the Pelicans backtrack a bit so the Covenant ships scouting for us wouldn't predict where the _Kryptonite _was in the tunnel, and there was the flaw: We had to re-enter the all-service tunnel via a smaller tunnel about half an hours flight away from where the ship actually was. So, we had a problem with potentially missing the _Kryptonite._

Missing the _Kryptonite _was, hopefully, not going to occur. All we needed to do was be dropped in by the Pelicans and hurry down an underground bunker that the Monarch and HVT (High-Value Target) were held up in and get them out of there before the Covenant manage to get past the Sentinel's defences. There was bad news -the Monarch had communicated with Fleighted Fire, and had warned that a deep underground tunnel linking the bunker up to a larger facility had been compromised, and Covenant forces were making their way through the tunnel.

The risks were high, and we had to act fast. There was about a thousand Sentinels and a few hundred Enforcers that were heading to back up the Sentinel's defensive perimeter against the advancing Covenant onslaught. The defensive was being spread thin with the Covenant onslaught spreading out in an attempt to flank the defensive, and Corvettes were quickly on-route to the defensive. If they got there, the Sentinels and Enforcers wouldn't stand a chance.

"Protect me, my brothers who would do no evil, and deliver us from evil-" I turned around to see Freud whose eyes were lightly closed in peace, toying with his cross. "-give us the strength to defeat your children's demons, and give me the strength to die for what's right. Amen." Freud concluded his prayer with kissing his cross before tucking it back behind his collar.

"You make your own prayers up?" Morgan asked, taking a seat next to Freud.

"Those already made do not ask God for the protection I seek. I feel that this is more... _me _rather than what is customary."

Freud nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks for asking God to watch over us."

Freud turned to face Morgan, nodding without smiling. It came to me that he wasn't one for smiling. "No problem. Just don't think he's going to protect you if you run out into a hail of plasma fire, sir."

"I don't think he'll protect me anyway." Morgan muttered, lowing his head into his hands.

"He'll protect you if you ask, sir, but there's no need to; I already have." Freud reassured him.

"Can he protect someone like _me?_" Morgan asked. His voice had a large amount of emotion in it. His regret for his actions years ago was there, but it still made no sense how someone like him could realise that he was a monster, and want to redeem himself for it.

"God forgives_ if_ you ask for forgiveness." Freud reassured him.

"I haven't asked for his forgiveness, though." Morgan admitted.

"Then that's something you can do later. I'll help you, if you want." Freud patted his shoulder.

"You can't be helped by what doesn't exist." Franti broke in.

Cylus came up behind Franti, placing a hand on the grim Marine's shoulder. "Adam, don't mock his belief."

Franti turned to face Cylus. I wasn't surprised that Cylus wasn't _too _pissed off at Franti for keeping the truth of Cylus's conviction a secret for so long, but the anger was still there -if only subtle. "I just don't want him wasting his time on that bullshit."

Cross' gung-ho voice came over the COM before Cylus could reply with the anger that was clearly building up in him. "Boys, ETA to LZ is plus one, better get ready."

"Affirmative." I replied over the COM as I got up off of the seat, grabbing my DMR that was leaning against it, and approaching the blood-tray's ramps as they lowered with the rest of Fireteam Wreckage and Fireteam Night taking up position behind me. As the ramps lowered, I saw the Pelican in front of us whose ramps were also lowered. Sitting on the edge of the blood-tray with his legs leaning over the edge was Kri who jokingly waved at us as the rest of the Diverted came up behind him.

Due to the amount of Diverted coming with us, they were fitted into another Pelican. I didn't want the Diverted to come altogether, but 'Lodam wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Lieutenant, we're ready when you are." I informed Cross over the COM.

"Roger that, sir. Descending to the LZ. ETA: minus ten -countdown should be displayed on your HUD. Heads up, I'm switching to the TACCOM. I recommend you guys connect up to it as well."

"Already done." I told him. The TACCOM allowed communications between sources for support and other tactical means, but resulted in a lot more talking; order verification, informing of designated CODENAME and other various methods that were annoying, but necessary, to prevent a misconception in relaying battlefield orders and information. It was very reminiscent of ancient military communications, but much more efficient.

I watched the countdown timer on my HUD reach zero, and as soon as it did, I dropped off of the edge of the Pelican and landed onto the grassy ground with a slamming sound along with the clicks of my armour coiling together. Members of the Diverted dropped down in front of me; Anve, 'Lodam, Kri, the Grunts, etc. And I heard the metal boots hitting the grassy ground behind me as the ODSTs and Marines dropped down.

Examining my surroundings, I saw that we were in a large plain area with a forest to the North. Light was erupting from the canopy of the forest as Sentinels and Covenant battled it out.

Turning to my right, I saw the large stairwell in a large dish shaped platform built into the ground. The stairwell led down into the surface of the ring -the bunker that the HVT and Monarch were in. "Night, Wreckage move into wedge formation and keep your eyes peeled. Ultra, keep your soldiers back and watch the rear."

The acknowledgement lights on my HUD all lit green. Lighter managed to implement the Diverted's own systems up to ours, so a dozen extra lights were added for the Diverted, and they all lit up. It didn't take long for the Diverted to learn how the system works; even the Grunts leaned pretty easily.

I carefully approached the entrance. The buzzing of over a thousand Sentinels above us heading to the forest was in my ears. Not relying on them to spot out hostiles, I quickly swept the surrounding area for contacts while I heard the Pelicans lift back off.

"Charlie-4-1, 4-2," I said over the TACCOM. "this is Wreckage Actual. Maintain perimeter loop around the LZ, but break off if things get to hot. How copy? Over."

Charlie-4-2's pilot, Captain Axel Hayworth, replied. "Wreckage Actual, this is Charlie-4-2, solid copy all 'round; maintaining perimeter loop as requested. How copy? Over."

"Charlie-4-2, Wreckage Actual. Solid copy. Out." I finished, keeping my DMR raised at the stairwell as we began descending down it. Knowing that a DMR wouldn't be effective in the confined spaces of the underground tunnel, I slung my DMR over my back, hearing it click to the MWHS before pulling out my MA5B assault rifle. The MA5C was my preferred version, but the 60 round magazine and extreme suppressive ability was the most important asset for me on this mission.

Working our way down the stairwell, I kept my eyes open for any movement. It was all clear, and once we reached the bottom, I examined the area. There was several tunnels we could take, but Timmy came in over the TACCOM to tell us the right one. "Wreckage Actual, this is Timmy. Got a positive video feed. Take the middle tunnel to the left of where the steps end. How copy? Over."

I replied over the TACCOM immediately. "Timmy, this is Wreckage Actual. Solid copy. Out."

I signalled for the soldiers behind me to keep their eyes open with my hand, and carefully entered the tunnel, twitching my fingers forward for them to follow before grabbing my gun fully again.

We didn't get far before static filled my COM and I signalled for the others to stop and get down to a crouched position while I tuned the channel only to have the Monarch's metallic voice come over the COM instead. "Reclaimer, meddler warriors have finally gained access to this defence bunker via the underground tunnel. They are present and hostile -be careful."

I stood up from my crouched position and signalled with my hands for the others to do the same. Again, it didn't take long for the Diverted to learn the proper Human hand signals and tactical orders. "Understood. We're on-route to your location, so remain where you are."

"Understood. Reclaimer, the meddler with me is in need of medical assistance -soon. He has lost a lot of blood and is feeling nauseous. Please hurry." The Monarch urged us.

"Acknowledged. We'll be there ASAP." I replied, surprised not to hear 'Lodam say something in worry for his wounded friend. Turning back around, I waved for Night, Wreckage, and the Diverted to follow closely as I turned back around and continued down the tunnel.

The tunnel had the usual Forerunner engravings for their architecture, and blue lights were located at various points in the pillars that held the tunnel together, lightning the dark tunnel up.

Tunnel after tunnel we had to pass through. The Monarch and HVT buried themselves deep in -which I found both intelligent and annoying. Intelligent outweighed annoying, and I just found another reason to respect the Monarch. I silently scolded myself. Respecting the Monarch may had jinxed it, and it was highly likely that something would now happen to make me _un-respect _the Monarch.

It was quiet as we made our way through. Not even the Grunts let out a single yap or bark with supported how disciplined they were in an actual operation. Kri was also quiet, offering reports on what he could smell every now and again.

_(Consider my verses circumspectly. You are not in solitary.) _What did it mean? I may had been able to understand the Gravemind's cryptic words -most of the time- but it was obviously warning me of something, and I couldn't focus enough on its words when there was the possibility of danger. _(So uneducated in your own tongue. You are silently being watched by a group of Sicariuses. They do not mean to kill you -yet.)_

I began to carefully eye the surrounding area. We had just entered a large atrium like room, so it was possible that we were being watched, but our motion sensors would show any Elites in active camo move if there were any, or the Monarch may had picked up their presence. If the Elites were there, they weren't moving.

"Heads up, the Gravemind says we're being watched." I warned the others through the TEAMCOM.

'Lodam immediately responded. "We would be dead if they meant to kill us. This is likely Qrs 'Jaragsai. Demon, what is Qrs' motives?"

_(See into his conscious.) _The Gravemind showed me Qrs' mind. It was a dark place to be, and Qrs seemed to be studying us. He seemed to had been working previously with the HVT towards exposing the Prophets' lies, but now he was divided on what course of action to take. But it seemed he was leaning towards revealing himself. He also already knew that his presence was compromised, so he was judging whether approaching us was a good idea.

Wondering what he was doing here, I saw that he was not here on orders, but here with some of his own team on their own agenda. He must had sneaked past the Covenant guarding the facility the bunker we were in was linked up to and made his way here to. Four other Elite special operatives were with him out of his team of seven. The others abandoned him back on the ship he was on -believing the HVT to be a traitor. The others were with Qrs out of loyalty and belief that the HVT wouldn't just kill a Prophet- the Prophet of Pity was dead, I wondered how 'Lodam would react.

But mind quickly turned away from revealing this news to 'Lodam to looking inside the mind of another special operative with Qrs. I didn't, at first, know why the Gravemind was getting me to look into the mind until I saw that the special operative planned on betraying Qrs at the last moment, and was only here as a 'mole' assigned by one of the Ship-Masters who had his doubts about Qrs' loyalty.

Qrs didn't know about the betrayal in the making, so there was a problem that only had one solution. Using my free hand to signal for the others to halt, I turned around to the elevated platform with braces and pillars serving as cover that Qrs and his team was hiding at.

I pointed at 'Lodam to get his attention before pointing towards the elevated area. "Ultra, it's time to play the diplomat."

'Lodam hissed lightly at me before turning his attention towards the platform. He didn't even need to ask as Qrs and his team immediately de-cloaked. Qrs was instantly recognisable with his pitch-black armour with red lights serving as his visor. The other operatives had a slightly lighter shade of back, and their lights were blue.

"...Qrs," 'Lodam muttered. "... if we still draw breath, then you will listen to me, correct?"

"Fleet-Master Nar 'Sarasee had faith in you," Qrs began in a voice full of coldness that would make corpses weep. Even I felt somewhat taken back by the amount of dread and coldness in his calm and stoic voice. "I do not. But I have faith in the Fleet-Master to always make the right decisions. But he made decisions absent reason, and I must consider my next actions cautiously."

'Lodam took a step forward. "Being here now, you made your decision. Surely your absence of presence has been noted, and where else could you be in their minds?"

"With me, I could be anywhere," Qrs replied, sending chills down my spine. "But you are correct. If I return, there will be no third chance. So, give me a reason not to return."

"The Great Journey is a lie!" 'Lodam snapped his mandibles, defiance in his voice. "Whether the San 'Shyuum knew or not matters little. Halo, when activated, will not ascend us to the divine beyond! There is no Paradise! Halo's purpose is to destroy all life in the universe to starve the Parasite!"

Nearly all of Qrs' team began to express their protests, but Qrs put his hand up to silent them. I kept my eye on the one that planned on betraying Qrs -he was close to breaking. "The Forerunners left their legacy to a race -yes. But not the Covenant." ' Lodam added.

Qrs eyed the Humans among the group. "Humanity." He concluded.

"I cannot believe it, and I will die before they become Gods!" 'Lodam growled. "But it is the truth! And the Hierarchs knew! They wanted absolute control of the Covenant -_always! _So Humanity needed to be wiped out before the truth surfaced!"

Qrs considered 'Lodam's words carefully, not speaking for almost a minute. But before he could speak, Suras asked a question. "Why is Fleet-Master Nar 'Sarasee being hunted?"

"Yes, why?" 'Lodam added.

"He murdered the Prophet of Pity and the Jiralhanae Chieftain. But upon hearing this, however, his motives become much more clearer." Qrs explained, adding that he _may _of believed us.

"Surely you are not considering their words truth, brother?" One of Qrs' operatives protested, anger in his tone. "It is all but lies in attempt to deceive us! Kill them and be done with it!"

Qrs craned his head around to face the one who spoke against him. "Did I not recruit Sangheili who use their mind over beliefs? Consider the possibilities vigilantly and you shall see truth in the Ultra's words. Why else would the Prophet of Pity lay dead by the hands of one so composed?"

"I cannot believe you would go mad with rage over the death of _Literus_ and the bastard _Prophet!_" 'Lodam hissed in disbelief.

"Not me, but those scarred by the potential betrayal of-" Qrs stopped and quickly spun around as one of operatives -the one who seeked to betray him over being blinded by rage- activated his camouflage and disappeared.

Qrs and his operatives activated their blades. The operative that spoke against him was still sceptical, and didn't do anything. The Elite showed up on our motion sensors since he was moving, but he was moving too fast to get a lock on. Qrs broke into a sprint after the Elite as the stealth Elite scaled a brace and charged me. Of course the bastard would go for me.

I began shooting, but the reinforced shields of the operative didn't give way. Just as the operative lunged at me, White leaped onto him and pushed him out-of-the-way.

The operative tumbled to the ground and White carefully approached the incapacitated Elite with Qrs coming up behind him, blade in hand. The Elite was, however, not incapacitated, and quickly leaped up off the ground and swiped at White with his blade.

To my horror, red blood sprayed over the ground as the operative kicked White back, sending him flying across the flood. Qrs seemed to had lost his temper, and calmly knocked the energy blade out of the operative's grip and grabbed the operatives throat, disrupting the operative's shields.

With a cracking sound, Qrs dropped the body of the operative who hit the ground with a _thud _before going limp.

"Night, watch the operatives." I ordered as I rushed over to White's side. He was bleeding heavily as he gagged up blood. His common carotid artery had been cut open, and he would bleed to death in a matter of moments.

I acted quickly, pulling out a can of biofoam from my pouch and quickly sprayed it into White's wound. He let out a sickening gagging sound as the canister emptied its contents into his wound, sealing it up.

Freud and Tulnai knelt down next to me. Freud began to place a comforting hand on White's shoulder and started muttering a silent prayer as Tulnai began bandaging the wound. I felt incredibly bad that I didn't alert Qrs of the betrayer sooner, but I hoped that 'Lodam's words may had convinced the betraying operative not to lash out. And when he did, it took me by surprise as the operative's decision to attack at that time came out of nowhere, and _even _took the Gravemind by surprise.

I quickly lifted White up so he wouldn't choke on his blood, and began patting his back to make him throw up all the blood stuck in his throat.

"Stay where you are." I heard Hauver warn, and I looked up to see one of Qrs' operatives taking a step forward. Anve translated Hauver's warning for the operative who quickly retreated.

"Death does not need to embrace you today," Qrs told his operatives. "stay firm until I say otherwise."

'Lodam came over and placed his hand onto my shoulder, making me almost spin around and snap his arm off. "We must hurry and retrieve the Fleet-Master. Leave this one to die before we join him."

That was when I snapped around, grabbing his wrist tightly. "We'll get your fucking friend when _I'm _ready. For now, sit down and shut the hell up."

'Lodam hissed at me. "_Never _speak in that tone to me again!"

I released my grip of his wrist, pushing him back to make Anve and Freyn hiss back at me. Kri even joined in as some Grunts barked threats at me. Ignoring them, I turned to face Hauver. "Major, get White out of here ASAP. We'll get the Monarch and HVT."

Hauver nodded. "Yes sir," He turned and waved Cylus over. "Lieutenant, help me out." They both picked up White and supported him by wrapping their arms around his shoulders. Hauver waved the rest of Night over, and they all began to head back the way we came.

I finally let myself breathe a sigh in relief before turning back to face Qrs and his operatives . "You'll be coming with us. If you're trust worthy, then I'll let you come back to the _Kryptonite _with us."

'Lodam translated what I said for them, and one of Qrs' operatives protested. "And what makes you think we will be coming aboard your vessel?"

"It's either that, or you go back to your bosses and ask them not to kill you. Knowing your stupid juridical system, execution is probable." I snapped back with 'Lodam translating.

The operative hissed in reply. "I will sooner die than set hoof aboard you pathetic ship!"

"Then do so," Qrs calmly told him. "But letting emotions over a misconception blind you only makes you weak. You have heard the truth -heeding it is the best course of action."

"Brother Qrs is right," Another of the operatives added. "Let us find the Fleet-Master and see what he knows."

The protesting operative growled as he gave in. "Fine."

"Good. Okay, fall in and stay behind me. Alert us immediately if you see any hostiles." I told them, Lodam translating, and Qrs quickly complying, falling in with Fireteam Wreckage, the Diverted, and his operatives following suite.

I turned around to the direction we had to go. A tunnel leading out of the atrium was just up ahead, and it wouldn't be far down the tunnel until we reached the location the Monarch and HVT was held up in.

_(Be cautious. A small sum of your foe are about to exit the tunnel.)_

I carefully approached the tunnel, MA5B raised. As soon as we got close to the entrance to the tunnel, an Elite led Lance came out just as the Gravemind had warned a minute earlier. Surprised to see us, they had nearly no time to react as the combined plasma and bullet rounds shredded their shields and flesh apart. The Elites succumbed to the bullet and plasma holes, and splashed down into a puddle of purple and blue blood. The Jackals screeched as the rounds from my assault rifle shredded their limbs off, and the Grunts barked in terror as they were mercilessly gunned down.

When it was done, I reloaded my weapon, ejecting the clip and putting it back into my spent clip pouch before slamming in another.

"That was unnecessary," One of Qrs' operatives remarked. "Given a moment, the truth may had reached their minds as well."

"Waiting and hoping to speak to them brings the risk of them attacking us first," 'Lodam reminded the operative as we continued on. "As unfortunate as it is, the alternative is not preferable."

We all stepped over the bodies and carefully continued down the tunnel. As soon as we heard plasma fire, we sped up and quickly made our way through the tunnel, and arrived at another atrium where the HVT and Monarch were hiding in.

A firefight had broken out between a few Covenant Lances, the Monarch and a few Sentinels who were using their lasers to fight back.

"Get to cover!" I ordered as I rushed towards an Elite Major that spun around as he heard me approach, roaring in shock as I slammed my fist into his face, smashing it against the pillar he was in cover behind, leaving a bloody pulp on the pillar as the body collapsed onto the ground.

Fire began coming my way, but the others and me quickly exchanged fire. I scaled over a cover brace connected to the pillar that the Elite I just killed was in cover behind and sprinted at full speed over to another brace connected up to the ramp that led up to an elevated part of the atrium that the Monarch and HVT were in cover behind.

Exchanging fire with a Jackal that I quickly shot apart, I continued up the ramp and turned behind a walled off area. As soon as I saw the weak Fleet-Master, I tossed him my MA5B that he snapped out of the air. I drew my DMR and began firing at a Lance in cover as the Fleet-Master did the same.

_(Forces are converging up the opposite ramp) _Heeding the Gravemind's words, I ran towards the ramp. I saw two Elites and several Grunts rushing up, and began gunning them down. The Fleet-Master came up beside me, and began using my MA5B that I gave to him to gun them down as well.

A round from my DMR split the head of a Grunt apart with a puff of blue blood erupting from the wound as the Grunt tumbled back down the ramp. I then shifted my fire to an Elite Minor, bringing his shields down and finishing it off with a shot to the neck.

Shifting my aim, I finished off and Elite Major whose shields were already taken down by the Fleet-Master, and shot a single round into his chest, sending him flying back down the ramp with blood spraying from an artery I hit.

Once the Lance was dead, I hurried down the ramp and moved to flank the other Lances. The Monarch's Sentinels fell in beside me, and began burning away the Elite's shields with their lasers before I delivered the finishing shot.

The final Elite Ultra let out a roar as he activated his energy sword and charged us, but was quickly blown down by a hail of fire from the Fleet-Master. With the Elites dead, I shifted my fire to the Grunts that were delivering a final suicide charge with their plasma grenades, but didn't get far before they were dropped.

The plasma grenades exploded, sending the bodies of the already dead Elites and Grunts flying away with some limps shattering off from the force as well. As soon as the Grunts were all dead and the fire had died down, I turned to face the Fleet-Master, holding my hand out for him to hand my weapon back.

The Fleet-Master didn't waste any time with tossing my MA5B back to me, and quickly passed me and limped over to 'Lodam and his Diverted that came rushing over. The rest of Wreckage came close behind the Diverted afterwards, and I quickly assessed if there were any casualties. To my relief, there were none.

"Ultra, you have a lot to explain." The HVT calmly said as he came to a stop in front of 'Lodam.

"I understand. I shall explain everything later, but we must leave -_now; _before it is too late." 'Lodam replied.

"As expected of you. It _is _good to see you again, Ultra."

"Likewise." 'Lodam replied.

"Fleet-Master!" A Grunt beamed. "Been so long! We have many tales to tell you of!"

"Tales from the mouths of your race are always interesting. Let us make haste and leave before such an event occurs that I shall never hear your tale." The HVT replied in a calm voice.

"It is the same tale that I shall tell you a thousand times better!" Anve butted in.

The HVT clicked his mandibles in what seemed like amusement. "You bicker as siblings seeking the attention of a parent. I shall listen to all your stories if I must."

'Lodam interjected. "But you will here my version first, yes?" I noticed with his tone that he seemed more at ease than usual, and had the elements of a joke in it. Perhaps this was a good thing. The Fleet-Master seemed level-headed, so perhaps 'Lodam would be kicked back into line.

Smiling at the thought, I came up behind him the HVT. "Monarch, tell the Fleet-Master to stay close behind us."

The Monarch translated my order for the HVT who turned around and nodded. I quickly took the lead, and everyone fell in behind me. "Timmy, Wreckage Actual. Tell the Captain that we have the Monarch and HVT and are on-route for extraction. Make sure Charlie-4-1 and 4-2 are reading to exfil ASAP. How copy? Over."

"Wreckage Actual, this is Timmy. Solid Copy. Out."

We all continued through the tunnels with no more hostile encounters or reasons to halt other than the HVT asking for the reason of death behind the betrayer after we passed his body -to which Qrs explained.

With the Monarch with us to warn us of nearby hostiles -for when the Gravemind didn't- we sped up, and quickly arrived at the stairwell. "Charlie-4-1, 4-2, this is Wreckage Actual. We are making our way up the stairwell and need immediate extraction. How copy? Over."

"Charlie-4-1 here," Cross replied in his gung-ho voice. "Solid copy, Wreckage. We're both descending -double time. How copy? Over."

"Charlie-4-1, this is Wreckage Actual," I replied. "Solid copy. Out." I waved for the others to hurry up and quickly began speeding up the stairs. My visor quickly adjusted to the blinding light as we surfaced, and I cocked my head around to the sound of the two Pelicans landing just in time.

The Monarch seemed to know what to do, and sped off to safety at lightning fast speed. The Sentinels it left behind hovered into the Pelican, and I quickly helped the HVT into the blood-tray.

I was somewhat surprised by the HVT accepting my help, and it reassured me that the tales of him may had been _true _rather than Covenant propaganda.

The rest of Wreckage, the Diverted, Qrs and his operatives filed into the Pelicans at an orderly fashioned speed. despite them wanting to hear what the HVT had to say before making their decision, Qrs and his operatives showed no reluctance in getting into the Pelican.

Wreckage got into the Pelican I was in -the one with the HVT- while the Diverted, Qrs and his Operatives got into Charlie-4-2 -the one with Night in it. 'Lodam didn't seem to like the idea of leaving the HVT alone in a Pelican with us, so he sent Anve to Charlie-4-1.

Anve hopped into the blood-tray, and immediately went over to the HVT who was seated, kneeling next to his seat and placing a hand on his shoulder. Over the course of the past few days on Halo, I had observed that the comradeship between the Elites was like that of the Marines. Each knew their comrades as brothers, but while Marines only did it with those close to them, Elites displayed the relationship with every other Elite -no matter the rank. I found it respectful to some extent, but I didn't want to respect Sangheili culture, so I quickly shrugged it off.

Turning back around instead, I watched the grassy ground below the Pelican got more and more distant as the Pelican lifted off. As soon as they were far enough off the ground, they whizzed forward, back to the large hatch we came out of.

Remembering something, I checked the time. We would make it back to the _Kryptonite _with no threats of missing the 'grand escape'. Once we got there, Qrs, his operatives, and the HVT would likely be detained in the brig until Nai had time to speak with them. I hoped that it would go better than last time, and someone wouldn't get their arm broken.

I turned my gaze to the distance. The battle was still raging in the forest, but it wouldn't be long until they realised that we had managed to get to their target -_first._

Another thought came to my mind, and I opened my COM. "Major, how's Captain White?"

Hauver replied almost immediately. "He's stabilised, but in a bad state, sir. Nothing the nurses back home can't fix up. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised that he's feeling a tad bit lucky."

I couldn't help but smile. "No doubt. Anyway, tell me if there's a change."

"Affirmative, sir." Hauver replied moments before disconnecting from the channel. He was still on the channel if I summoned him, but if he was speaking to his men, no one else would hear it over the COM which kept the channels nice and clean of unnecessary chatter.

I disconnected from the channel as well, gazing over my shoulder to the sound of Wolf coming up behind me and stopping next to me. Wolf was easily recognisable by his red and black ODST armour, black visor, and tactical goggles. In his hands was his SRS99C-S2 AM with various spray paintings on it to show off his ownership of it.

"Tough day, huh?" He asked. Having a friendly chat wasn't really something I was good at or enjoyed, but it was mandatory for a Human, and I _was _Human, after-all.

"Yeah. It's still morning, isn't it? It's not over yet."

Wolf let out a nervous chuckle. "Careful, you'll jinx it, Sierra."

I slightly grinned under my visor. "Seems to be a trend, no? Saying that something is good jinxes it, and damns it to bringing about nothing but fucking misfortune."

"Yeah. Well -not to jinx it- but I think we're home free. Those particle cannons will be fixed soon, and the Covenant fleet will be blown apart, right? We'll get home, and we'll go on from there."

I mused on what he said. "I don't think there's any chance on moving on -for me. If I'm not put in front of a firing squad, I'll either be locked up or sent to the front-line again. If some miracle happens and none of the above happen, then it's probably civilian life for me... That's _not _gonna be an option either-"

"Sierra, you're torturing yourself," Wolf broke in. "Just focus on _now_. You have your sister, spend as much time with her as you can. But no matter what happens, we're with you, okay? Remember that."

I suddenly felt slightly at ease. Talking with someone about my feelings was new to me, but it seemed to help -to a degree. I suddenly felt _better, _and _much_ _more _confident for the future.


	38. The Escape

**(Thel 'Lodam)**

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1004 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Aboard Pelican Dropship Charlie 4-2, Entering ****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Aft Hanger-Bay, Installation-06]**

* * *

><p>A loud, grinding <em>thud<em> signalled the landing of the Human dropship, and the end of a long, irritating journey.

The gags coming from the wounded Human soldier, White, was enough to drive my mind to abandon me. Humanity showed too much compassion towards their weak, and it sickened me. Surely Vale Nar 'Sarasee saw this as well.

Craning my head around to gaze at the ramp of the dropship's bay as it lowered, I saw the light from the hanger-bay flood the bay of the drop-ship as the ramp got lower and lower. Another loud, grinding _thud_ told me that the ramp had lowered fully, and I rushed out of the drop-ship's bay, snapping my head around to get my bearings while also checking where the other drop-ship landed.

Spotting the other drop-ship, I rushed towards it, the clattering of Unggoy, a Kig-Yar, and Sangheili hoofs, claws, and feet upon the metal as they followed closely behind.

The Demon was the first one to walk down the drop-ship's ramp followed by two more Humans who had each of Vale's arms over their shoulders. They may had been helping him, but I instantly became disturbed at the site.

I snaked my head around, pointing to Freyn and Suras before turning back around and pointing to the Fleet-Master "Freyn, Suras, relieve them of their transgression."

"At once, brother." Freyn complied, trotting along with Suras towards the ramp. Freyn pushed the Humans away while Suras calmly gestured for them to leave. His belief of the Humans being the Reclaimers, and blinding respect was present, and it was making me feel more and more like I could not count on him being there for me when I needed him.

Suras and Freyn began to carefully escort Vale down the ramp, the rest of the Human warriors coming down the ramp behind them, quickly carting White and lifting him onto a portable medical table, and carting him off to a nearby lift.

I watched as the cart disappeared into the lift before turning my attention back to the ramp. As soon as I saw Anve, I approached him. I would do my best to avoid showing the anger flooding through me, but it would not be easy. But the last thing I wanted was to offend Anve, and it was shaping up to look as if I would. "You allowed the Humans to touch the Fleet-Master. Why?"

Observant as ever, Anve noticed my aggression and anger, and proceeded to reply with caution. "Forgive me, brother, but I drifted to slumber. I only woke up but mini-moments ago, and I, _too_, was shocked to see the Humans transgression," Anve lowered his head in shame. "Please forgive me."

Ever so carefully, I released the air I was holding in, and I swore that the air was steaming. The beating of my hearts calmed down, and the rage in my eyes dispersed. "Be more careful. Falling into slumber around Humans speaks levels of danger."

Anve bowed his head in respect and shame. "It will never happen again. I..."

"Go on." I gestured for him to continue, eager to hear what he had to say.

"...I thought I could trust the Demon to not allow harm upon me," Anve glanced towards the Demon before turning his attention back to me. "His outburst at Jol's death spoke volumes to me about a possible loyalty-"

I quickly interjected, not wanting to hear that one of my closet friends had some type of respect for the Demon. "There is a reason for the Demon's outburst, but it is not in _our favour._ He did it for another reason that is not related to us in any form."

There was a glimmer of sadness in Anve's eyes as he bowed his head again. Truthfully, I felt bad. I _too _trusted the Demon, but I quickly learnt that it was a ploy -for what? I did not know.

Adrenaline rushed through me when Anve snapped his head back up, looking beyond me with anger flashing in his eyes. It only turned out to be what I suspected when I snapped around to see at least a dozen fully armed Humans approaching Vale, Qrs and his operatives, their weapons raised.

This was obviously inevitable, but I did not see it coming. I was enraged, and I slammed my armoured hooves down as I aggressively approached Vale, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder and moving in front of him in to protect him while staring down the Humans.

The rest of the Humans that were in the drop-ships started to surround us as well.

"This was foolish!" One of Qrs 'Jaragsai's operatives snapped his mandibles as they all began to draw their blades. A red light shone in the corner of my eye as Qrs' signature red energy sword was activated. Hisses of the other blades sounded off, and I too pulled out the plasma rifle holstered on my right hip and aimed it at the Human with the biggest weapon.

"What is happening?" Vale asked, trying his best not to fall out of Suras' and Freyn's arms.

"You and your assassin buddies are going on a trip to the brig, split-lip." One of the warriors sadistically growled. His insult almost took it out of me, and I clenched my fist.

"This farce will not-"

"Thel, stop," Vale interrupted me, voice composed despite the circumstances. But it was always so with him. It added to my respect for him. "There is an unneeded violence being readied. They will not harm me as my knowledge is of value to them."

I did not lower my weapon. "They _cannot _be trusted."

"We shall watch over him," Freyn reassured me, hefting Vale back up after he slipped down around his shoulders a bit. "The Humans can allow that, surely."

There was an all too familiar humming and whizzing sound, and I craned my head around to see the Monarch hover into the hanger and float over to us. I was instantly relieved. The Monarch always acted neutral in these situations, so I was confident that this farce would be dealt with in _our favour_ in a matter of moments.

"What is happening here, Reclaimers?" The Monarch asked in its metallic voice.

I was not about to let the Humans try to manipulate the Monarch over its loyalty to them, so I spoke up first, keeping a calm anger in my tone. "The Humans are subjecting the Fleet-Master to their filthy brig!-"

The Monarch interrupted. "Unacceptable. The meddlers vitals are deteriorating. He must receive medical attention immediately!"

A sigh of relief escaped me. It suddenly became obvious to whose side the Monarch was on.

"He'll get his medical attention," The leader of the armed group told us, his voice full of that pathetic authority that gave Humans an annoying amount of arrogance. "We have all that shit set up down there already. Happy?"

I hissed at the Human, but the Monarch, unfortunately, reconsidered its side, and spoke up after translating what the Human said to Sangheili for Vale. "Excellent! I shall oversee the medical attention to make sure everything is up to par with what is recommended by protocol! Continue, Reclaimers."

That hiss turned into a growl, and I moved in front of Vale, plasma rifle ready to fire. The Humans replied to the aggression, and moved forward, weapons raised. Some of the Sentinels in the bay began to surround us, and the Hybrids that had assembled nearby -this hanger-bay being their new zone of free movement- started moving in too.

Before I could sentence us all to death, Vale's hand grabbed my shoulder. "The Humans are either doing this for two reasons: They have trust issues, or they find some type of victory in subjecting me to a cell. If it is the latter, they are weak. Allow them to continue being weak, rather than letting a weak emotion such as pride blind you."

Scolding myself, I holstered my plasma rifle and waved for my and Qrs' warriors to stand down. The Human warriors moved forward and began escorting Vale, Qrs, and his operatives to the lift they came out of with Anve, Suras, Freyn, Kri, and the Unggoy closely behind.

Instead of following suite, I turned my head around, looking for the lift to the bridge. Finding it almost immediately, I marched towards it. To my surprise -and somewhat relief- no Human came after me.

The Captain would receive my anger on a platter, and I savoured the thought on venting my anger on her as I walked into the lift, slammed the biggest button that I assume led to the bridge, and turned to face the doors as they hissed shut.

Unlike the more comforting _ding _noise the doors of the false Covenant vessels made, Human ships were more along the path of a _hissing _sound.

The _hissing _that sounded off as the door to the Human lift opened was deafening, and I had to squint my eyes at the irritation, slamming my mandibles together and grinding my teeth out of the annoying sensory affecting my mind.

This just added to my anger, and I stormed out of the lift and through the corridor, arriving at its end with yet _another damn door hissing_ open. This time, my anger was not so easy to contain, and I hissed along with the door, storming through it and onto the Humans' primitive bridge.

I did not get far onto the bridge without eyes peering my way, and the bridge officers pointing me out to the higher ranked individuals. Apparently the Captain had not announced my imminent arrival -that the Associated Intelligence would had told her about- to her bridge crew

I walked up a few steps to an elevated section of the bridge, and began approaching the command seat when the Human Second came out from behind a wall with terminals on it, and stood in my way. "Ultra, it's best if you turn around and leave." The Human warned me, his irritating accented tone only irritating me further in a day already full of too much irritation.

"My arrival was announced -surely-, and I have not been halted on my way here, so I will _not _be leaving _now._" I explained to him, my voice becoming somewhat muffled as I began gritting my mandibles so hard together that drool began to dribble from my teeth.

"Cortez, it's fine." The Captain told the Second from her command chair, her usual tone sending _more_ sparks of irritation through my mind. Why did Humans have to sound so damn annoying?

Complying immediately, the Second stood aside, gesturing for me to continue on. I hissed at him, passing by him while also purposely bumping into him. I heard him let out an angry grunt before moving on, but I did not pick him up on it as _I _was the one to show aggression to _him._

Letting the Second go, I continued up a few more steps until I came around the side of the Captain's command chair, placing my hand on the metal of the large seat as I moved right around it and in front of it to look the Captain directly in her pathetic green eyes. She returned the gaze, and I felt disgust. She was looking down on _me!_

Enraged, I began my protest. "You are despicable, unfaithful, and disgusting!" I snapped, slamming my clenched fist into the metal of her command chair, having the armour around my fist protect me from any damage. I once slammed my fist into a metal surface without armour protecting it, and it did not end well. "I bring aboard one who will provide your pathetic race with absolute salvation, and you _lock _him into your primitive prisons _with _the bastard mutineers!"

A smirk appeared on the Captain's ugly face. "I'm sorry, I don't remember sending the Monarch to the brig."

I roared in rage at her pathetic and arrogant jest, slamming my armoured hoof into her command chair, making her instinctively lift her legs up into the seat. "YOU _DARE _INSULT THE FLEET-MASTER?! HE ACTUALLY_ WANTS_ TO HELP YOUR PATHETIC RACE WILLINGLY, AND YOU _MOCK_ HIM?!"

"Don't bullshit me, 'Lodam. There's no Elite out there who'll want to suck our dicks for anything but their _own _benefit."

I was taken aback by her crude words. Sucking the sacred seeder? What provocative nonsense was this? "_Never_ underestimate Vale Nar 'Sarasee. The Prophet of Pity did, and he lays dead." I hissed as I continued. "And _do not _doubt _my_ words -the Fleet-Master _does _in fact want to help your race out of pity. It is a weak motion for one so strong, but understandable-"

She broke in, her voice full of authority. "I'll judge for myself later. Right now, he and these 'assassins' will remain in the brig-"

I took a heavy step forward, making some of the bridge crew around me ready themselves for a possible fight. "You will speak to him _now!_"

"I'd like to, 'Lodam; it'd shut you up, so it's a win-win situation, but I'm needed here."

I shook my head in annoyance, clattering my mandibles together, wiping away the drool from the exposed part of my helmet, near my jaw, to prevent any signs of weakness. Humans did not drool out of being more evolved in that sense, but what they were evolved physically in replaced evolution of intellect. We may had been more animalistic, but we were more intelligent. "You are _not _needed here. Cease these excuses, _now_!"

"I _am _actually needed here, 'Lodam." The Captain shook her head, amused. "The Monitor's calculations were off by a few hours -we're approaching the exit, _now! _You guys only _just _made it back on-board, so I'm _kinda _glad to see you, but that gratitude quickly pissed off."

I mused on her words. According to Qrs -who I spoke with on the drop-ship while it traversed through the all-service tunnel and back to the Human vessel- Ship-Master Yexyn 'Sarasai had been overthrown and executed by the crew of his ship, the _Sinful Wind, _after they discovered his plans to help out the Fleet-Master. Qrs quickly escaped the ship not long after, already being watched closely by the crew.

No doubt Qrs would inform Vale of this soon, and I felt regret for not being there with him in the brig to offer him support upon the news. But I was here, and I needed to think of how to act next.

With no more possible allies among the fleet, negotiation options were not available. There was absolutely _no way _we could safely commune with the fleet, so it was best to leave them behind. But if no vessels had Flood Spores on them -as the Monitor had stated upon completing a scan of the fleet per my request- then why not let them escape? True, the fleet not trapped in Halo's orbit would attack the Human vessel -that was oddly named _'Superman's Weakness'; _likely a miss-translation- as soon as it left Halo's sky sphere. But why not only destroy the ships that threatened us? And why not deactivate the gravity well indefinitely, allowing the rest of the fleet to escape safely?

I turned my attention to the large window covering the front of the bridge. In the far distance, there was the enormous hatch that would soon open. A thought suddenly arisen in my head. The Monitor would be here soon to coordinate with the Captain to ease our escape. When it arrived, perhaps I could express my concern. Whether it listened or not made me fear for the fate of those I once called 'brothers'.

"Ma'am, ETA to E-P is five minutes." One of the Humans at their stations informed the Captain. All of the bridge's stations were occupied save one that belonged to a mutineer who was contained to the brig.

"Re-route all power to the engines -get us as much speed as possible. And get the Monitor up here." The Captain began ordering, pulling up a terminal connected to her command chair where she began pressing holographic buttons which did tasks I cared not for.

"Power being re-routed, ma'am. Speed's increased by one hundred and thirty-six percent. ETA is now minus two minutes."

"We're going home, boys!" Someone cheered with everyone else joining in their cheers. Humanity's ignorance in celebrating so soon bought about an extreme amount of irritation.

I was about to leave the bridge when I started to lose my balance. "'Lodam, hang on to something!" The Captain urged me. Normally, I would tell her to go and die painfully, but her warning had merit, and I grabbed onto her seat as my feet began slipping back. The angle of the ship was going from straight to vertical. The gravity controls in the rest of the ship would prevent any of the crew from losing balance, but it was different on the bridge. Humans did not seem to be able to put in that extra effort. I found it understandable -to _some _extent as whenever a manoeuvre like this was to happen, most of the crew would be in their stations, and moving would be forbidden. That was at least what I thought to be fact, but then I realised it may had been something else. Maybe there was gravity controls in the bridge, but the Captain deactivated them to annoy me.

"Ma'am, the Monitor's already on-route. He'll be here any second!" One of the bridge operators informed.

Adrenaline started flooding me. The chance of saving so many from death was close, and I would not let it pass. I decided to utilise this adrenaline, and used to try and stabilise and balance myself. This was in vain for adrenaline could not beat gravity.

"You holding on tight?" The Captain laughed. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Both my comfort being absent and the thought of going home made her _'joyous' _But for me, I just found it unneeded, unprofessional, and annoying. So I replied with a hiss.

Ironically, I was not the only one to hiss. The doors to the bridge hissed open, and the whizzing movement of the Monitor made me turn my head around to see him hover around the same wall I came around earlier with the terminal connected to it, and come up beside me. "Apologies for my miss-calculations, Reclaimer."

"I'm not bitching." The Captain replied, joy still in her voice.

"Monitor, I must beg a request of you!" I panted, trying to balance myself.

The Monitor turned back around to face me, its centre eye twitching in curiosity. "I will do anything I can to assist you. Please designated your request!"

"All of the Covenant ships are clear of the Flood, no?" I questioned, keeping my voice calm, but getting somewhat fearful when I saw the Captain turn her head in interest.

"Yes," The Monitor confirmed. "And the vessels have not had any access to the surface of this Installation since my last scan, so there are no possibilities of the statistics changing."

"Then allow them to escape!" I pleaded, keeping my voice calm as to not show my desperation. "And only destroy the ships that threaten us directly! Do not end the existence of any others!"

The Monitor seemed to consider my pleas, by before it could reply, the Captain broke in. "Not going to happen. We have a chance to take out one of the most dangerous Covenant fleets out there, and I'm not gonna let that chance go!"

I snapped my head in her direction, lightly hissing. "There is _NO _need to! Absolutely _no _need! Have you been deceived into not remembering the Monarch's inbuilt device?" I Hissed louder, almost glowing. "It may take us a segment to return back to your world, but it will be a few rotations for the rest of the world! Why are you _so damn _foolish, you pathetic fungus!"

The Captain let out a sigh, rubbing her forehead. "You're right."

"_Of course _I am!" I snapped, twitching my mandibles uncontrollably, totally enraged.

The Captain began chuckling slightly. "If you'd shut up a moment, I'd like to break your hearts."

My eyes widened, and my hearts began beating at an alarming rate. What I was about to hear was not going to be easy to digest. Despite my agitation, I let the Captain continue. "Now, while you're right, there's a _small _overlook on your part," The Captain spent a few mini-moments pressing in a few orders on her terminal before continuing "We may be back at _Earth _in a matter of days, weeks, whatever, _But, _it's more than likely that it'll still be a while before the war ends _fully. _And during that time, this fleet could be fucking over dozens of planets. That's _not gonna_ happen -not on _my _watch."

The hatch began opening. The sound of the giant metal doors opening could be heard from _inside _the Human ship. I had to act very fast if I was to prevent this unneeded massacre. "You _do not _understand!" I protested, getting more and more agitated and aggressive. I could not contain it, nor did I care. "When _High Charity _arrives, _every_ commander in the fleet will be executed for allowing Halo's destruction! Such a refitting for every ship will take over a segment!"

The Captain craned her head around, and lowered her gaze to me. "There's still the chance-"

"THERE IS _NO _'CHANCE'!" I roared in rage, drool leaking from my mandibles and onto the ground. It caught the attention of the Captain, but I cared not; I actually hoped this animistic aspect of me would intimidate her.

The Captain shook her head, turning her attention back to the Monitor. "Consider this retribution for being a dick, 'Lodam."

My mandibles could not move for I was in too much shock at her _even _considering such a barbaric act -let alone _actually _do it. "Kill them, and your race is doomed. I will do _anything _and _everything _I can to make sure your race begs for mercy under our boot!"

The Captain scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah, ONI's not gonna let _any _of you assholes return to your shit-hole of a 'home-world'-"

"I do not plan on asking for _their _permission!" I growled. As I responded, the ship passed through the hatches, and the blight light of the sun flooded the bridge. It was both refreshing, and intimidating.

"Ma'am, we've been spotted!" One of the operators reported.

"Multiple Covenant _SDV_-Class Corvettes and Frigates are rerouting to our position," Another added. "Ma'am, what'd we do?"

"Watch the fireworks." She replied.

The ships in orbit around the ring that were visible began exploding as the weapons of Halo opened fire. Whether they were attacking us or not had no matter -they all suffered the eternal darkness.

"Gravity well is deactivated, Reclaimer," The Monitor reported. "You have five minutes before I reactivate it."

"Thanks. Okay, boys and gals, full speed! All power to the engines!" She ordered.

I almost tumbled over as the ship began speeding forward. "Ma'am, speed increased by another hundred percent!" A operator reported.

"We're going to make it!" Another added. The Human's enthusiasm was misplaced and irritating. A bridge was meant to be a place of quiet concentration -not unneeded chatter. I had spent my fair time upon a bridge, and I had stricken down on those who would defy such customs, but this was the _Humans' _ship, not mine.

Such concerns as chatter was put aside by me when a more real and alarming reality came to mind. I looked out of the window covering the entirety of the front of the Human ship, and saw a dozen ships full of those oblivious to the Prophets' lies be blown asunder by the weapons of Halo. And these were just the ones visible from where the Human vessel was faced -there were _many more _being destroyed outside my vision.

It was hard... _Too _hard to watch so much needless death unfold in front of me.

"Fleighted, is Halo on a collision course with the sun yet?" The Captain questioned the Monitor.

"Affirmative, Reclaimer. The estimated to of collision is twenty minutes."

The Captain let out a sigh of relief. "Good enough. Come on, boys, let's get to orbit and watch the show!"

The crew whooped in agreement. "Fried Covies, _awesome._"

I decided to instead feed back an offensive jest and not respond with aggression. I could play the Human's pathetic and cruel game as well. "You like watching your enemy burn as well?" I questioned, forming my mandibles in a sadistic smile. "I do too_. _I oft than not stood on the bridge of the ship I served on, and watched with glee as your worlds were burnt to glass!"

Disgust and anger sounded against me.

"Fucking split-lip!"

"COCKSUCKING ALIEN FREAK!"

"Get outta 'ere!"

"That was uncalled for." The Captain shunned me.

"I gave what I received, you filthy little _Nishum!_" I snapped back at her, my tone full of hatred, and my mandibles twitching in anger and hate beyond comprehension. Was the Captain a fool? Or did she not hear the Human's remark?

"Just leave, _now!_ Before I have you kicked off the bridge." The Captained warned me, adding a threat to extend the warning.

"With pleasure!" I snapped back, letting go of her command chair and tumbling around on the unbalanced ground. I suddenly managed to regain my balance, and suspected that the Monitor reactivated the bridge's gravity controls to assist me. I still did not forgive it for its blinding loyalty to Humanity.

With my balance being returned to me, I stormed out of the bridge, through the corridor, and back into the lift, ignoring the _hissing_ doors all the way. Once in the lift, I slammed my fist onto the button that led to the deck with the Human 'officers' lounge' on it.

As the lift rumbled and began its descent, I struggled to remain composed. A part of me wanted to break down and let tears flow from my eyes, but I needed to remain strong. And there was the Associated Intelligence that would had been watching me. Shedding tears out of weakness was not something I would do; indulging the Humans was _not _something I would.

But, after everything that had happened over the past couple of segments, learning that my entire meaning for existence was a lie, Rek, Jol, and everyone else's death, and after just witnessing a fraction of a fleet familiar to me being obliterated, it was _too _much. I managed to light gag as emotion tried to escape me before I scolded myself, and quickly recovered just as the doors to the lift opened. I marched out, clenching my armoured hands into a fist of anger.

I continued to move through the corridors and junctions of the Human ship until I arrived at the familiar officer's lounge. My eyes widened as I entered. Outside the large window -that covered the entire wall that stared at me as I walked through- was the raining of debris from the distant vessels of the fake Covenant being destroyed.

Before I collapsed out of grief, a shutter whirled down and covered the window. Turning to where the shutter controls were, I saw a Human clad in Imp armour -save the helmet- standing near them, liquor in hands. This one's name was 'Morgane' or 'Morgana'; I did not remember, nor care. I just wanted him gone.

"Leave, _now._" I ordered him, keeping my voice low and cold, but hinting my anger.

"You looked like you were about to collapse, so I technically saved your ass. Show a bit of appreciation." He replied in a calm tone, going over to a Human long seat and seating himself on it, taking a sip out of his bottle of liquor.

I hissed in reply, preparing to remove him forcefully when he apologised. "I'm sorry -it's been a long day, I just need a beer to relax with," He turned his head over his shoulder to look at me. "but I'll leave -if you want me to. Doesn't seem like I'm wanted anywhere, anyway, so being told to piss off by an Elite won't shock me." I noticed tears coming from the Human's eyes, and I was instantly disgusted.

"YOU _SHED TEARS?!_" I growled at him. "You, murder and shame young females, yet you shed tears for being outcasted?!"

The Human turned to look at me, tears coming out of his eyes in an alarming rate, but face remaining composed. "You know?"

"It is the talk of the ship!" I replied aggressively. "I cannot go to any place with your race present without hearing the tale of your exploits! While I thoroughly enjoy thinking about the pain you inflicted on those little bastards, I cannot perceive you as anything other than an animal!"

The Human got up off the long seat, leaving its glass bottle of liquor on the low table between the long seats. "Yes, I am an animal. And yes, Humanity is a pathetic as you've been calling it. But, I want to make Humanity _stronger _in a chance to redeem myself."

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. "There is no way Humanity can become _'stronger', _so do us all a favor and rid yourself of existence. But first, _GET OUT!_"

The Human jumped back a bit at my rage, but quickly hurried out, breathing heavily. The Human was obviously very tormented, and I was rather glad at the prospect.

Letting a sigh wheeze through my mandibles, I took a seat on one of the Human long seats, and relaxed. I then remembered that relaxing would bring about reminiscing, and reminiscing would bring about the emotions of everything I have been through. I would not allow myself to become consumed by emotions, so I leaped out of the seat, grabbed the glass liquor bottle the Human left, and tossed it across the room to see it shatter against a wall.

Unsatisfied, I charged over to the bench, scaled around it, and began grabbing other bottles of Human liquor and throwing them across the room. The shattering of glass bought as much pleasure as mating did -more, for the moment.

After the bottles were gone, I scaled back around the bench, and tore the Human tall chairs from the ground and smashed them against the ground. Unsatisfied still, I bought out my energy sword, swung my arm up in the air, and snapped it down, activating the blade.

With the blue blade at my disposal, I started cutting apart the bench, cleaving through the metal and wood as if it were nothing. Once the bench was done, I continued with the tall chairs, cleaving them apart before shifting to the couches.

Left, right, left right, I swing my blade and cut apart the objects of the Humans. Soon, I would cut apart _Humans, _yet again.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Courtney Jsarez)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1047 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Bridge, Orbiting Installation-06]**

* * *

><p>"Really?" I asked Timmy, disbelief in my voice.<p>

"Affirmative, ma'am. Ultra Thel 'Lodam is throwing a temper tantrum." Timmy confirmed.

I scoffed in disbelief. The _Great _and _Powerful _Ultra was cutting apart my ship out of anger. This was priceless! "Timmy, you recording it"

"Affirmative, ma'am."

I smiled. "Send the recordings to all the crew's datapads later. It's the _prefect _gift for the Marine's 772nd birthday. It'll give the men a laugh while also pissing off 'Lodam, so it's a win-win for me."

"Affirmative, ma'am." Timmy complied. If 'Lodam was gonna cut up _my _ship, then he would pay the price.

The _hissing _of the bridge door opened made me turn my head around and lean out of my command chair to see who it was. Upon seeing that it was Red, I smiled and turned back around, now facing the window that covered the entire of the front of the bridge, and outside of that window was Installation 06 getting closer and closer to the sun of the system we were in.

"Come to watch the show here?" I asked Red. "Because I had Timmy broadcast the external camera view across everyone's' datapads."

"I haven't watched a show with you in years," He explained. "Just wanted to change that."

"And?..." I urged.

Red sighed, stopping next to my seat. "I'd like to be with you when the pain starts."

"Pain?" I questioned.

Fleighted Fire then deemed it necessary to join in. "Yes, Reclaimer. The Flood may be mutations of biological lifeforms, but they can feel pain."

"Shit!" I growled. "This is going to fucking suck!" _(You do not say? You lose half the pain to your sibling, I experience it all.) _The thought of the Gravemind getting a shit tone of pain injected into it made me smile, but a flash of pain went through my head, and I stopped, letting out a yelp at the same time as Red did.

"Nai!" He growled. "Please, don't piss the Gravemind off."

"Yep." I simply grunted, rubbing my forehead to relieve the pain.

"A wise decision, Reclaimers." The Fleighted Fire remarked, almost _happily_.

"You seem joyful." I observed, ceasing rubbing my head as the pain died down.

Fleighted Fire turned its attention to me. "Oh, indeed! I have been meaning to tell you that I have decided to travel with you back to _Erde-Tyrene._"

"You're allowed to do that?" I asked it, joining my tone in with its at the good news. While the Monitor coming back to _Earth _with us wasn't really a priority, I could just use him as another hostage against ONI.

"Yes, Reclaimer." Fleighted Fire confirmed. "I have always been allowed to do so, but never mentioned out of necessity. I have the choice to return to the Ark and await the construction of Installation 06B, or serve you until Installation 06B has been issued into a state of functionality. I initially chose the first option out of eagerness to see the Ark, but reconsidered as assisting in Humanity's war with the meddlers in a larger priority, and initiates an overdrive of any protocol that contradicts assisting Humanity -as going to the Ark would."

I took it all in before replying. "That's great news, Fire, _I _can sure use you in the future." I tried to keep any sign of me thinking deviously out of my voice, and succeeded. I, at first, didn't like using the Monarch -now both the Monarch and Fleighted Fire- as objects to trade with ONI, but they weren't only machines, but machines that had pissed me off _way too _much, and my tolerance for them had ended long ago.

"It'll be nice if you mention you being able to come with us," Red said. "Just in case we needed you."

"Protocol dictates I judge myself before acting against protocol, and informing you of the first choice went against the protocol that stated that I did not have to inform you if I deemed in unnecessary."

I frowned in confusion, that was a mouthful that I didn't want to hear _ever _again, so I didn't persist. I thought Red might've, but he didn't, and I saw why. Halo was already entering the sun, and I was suddenly starting to feel _really _hot.

The heat from the sun would destroy all life on Halo before swallowing, but the Gravemind was still a ways away from the part that was being burnt up, but the heat was increasing.

It didn't help that I wasn't able to sweat since I wasn't _physically _hot, but Red holding my hand tightly _did _help.

At a time like this, my hands would usually twitch out of control, but that stopped yesterday when I recoiled with Red. It must had been a mental thing, and I would talk to Joyce about it. But now, I had to suffer through the Gravemind being burnt to death. It wasn't going to be like an explosion where the blast would likely kill you instantly, but the air getting hotter and hotter. First, I would likely stop breathing, then I will start to feel the Gravemind blister up, and I could only dread about the rest.

_(Pain is but mental, I am mental. Consider this your reward for complying with my plans so far.) _The heat suddenly disappeared, and my mind felt _odd._ Red felt it to, and I heard him let out a sigh of relief.

I didn't have to ask Red to know what the Gravemind meant. I let Red on the ship, so I helped in its plans -of sorts. And for that, it decided to shield us from the pain via its connection to our nerves. I couldn't help but be grateful to the Gravemind. Despite everything it stood for, it had the ability to show compassion -apparently.

Red, me, the Monitor, and all of the command crew watched as Halo was swallowed up by the sun. All that remained from Halo was the debris of Covenant ships that were orbiting Halo that were quickly destroyed by Halo's defences before we even broke orbit.

I smiled at the carnage. The Covie bastards had it coming, and I felt no pity for 'Lodam, or the other Elites, Grunts, and Kig-Yar aboard the _Kryptonite._

_(Pain is a tactical foe that I have yet to conquer. With all I can do in existence, I cannot resist pain until one that can, joins their conscious with mine.) _Both the Monarch and Fleighted Fire said that the Flood evolve with consuming different species of organic lifeforms. Consuming a Human gives them that Human's abilities and memories, and the same goes in a universal format. So until the Gravemind consumed a species that could resist pain, it was screwed to continue feeling pain.

I almost found the thought amusing, but decided to not dwell on it. The Gravemind may had spared us its pain only as a 'reward', but it still saved me from more pain than I needed, and so I would show the Gravemind some slack -for a bit, at least.

After a few moments of dwelling on the fact that Halo was gone, I came back to the present, and began typing in orders on my personal command terminal. "Fleighted Fire, are there any Covenant ships still in the system?"

"No, Reclaimer. All meddler ships have been destroyed in various methods. I will give you a detailed list of the methods-"

"No thanks," I interrupted. "Just needed to know if we were home free."

"Looks to be that we are." Red remarked.

"Yeah..." I agreed, musing on what to do. We could either go straight back to _Earth, _and make the slight risk of being followed -which was very unlikely-, or we enter a random slip-space vector, and follow the Cole Protocol to the book. "...But I don't think we should take the risk."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Red agreed.

I smirked. "When have I _ever_ been wrong?" I asked, turning my attention to my Navigation's Officer, Lilly Gantant, "Gantant, set a random slip-space trajectory -try and make the distance as minimal as you can. And give me an ETA."

"On it." Gantant replied, and a few moments passed before she added, "Ma'am, vectors entered. ETA: eight days."

I turned my attention back to Fleighted Fire. "How long will it take with the Monarch's time thingy?" I asked.

"Approximately sixteen hours, Reclaimer," The Monarch responded with his estimated time, adding, "But the time is dependable on multiple parameters-"

"That's fine," I broke him off, and began rubbing my chin as I added, "We can do sixteen hours. Just, inform the Monarch of the situation."

"There is no need to, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied, and began explaining what it meant immediately after, leaving me little time to ask what it meant. "The Monarch's Point of Local Transendor is always active."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Perhaps you damn robots aren't totally inconvenient," I let out another sigh, turning my attention back to Gantant while sitting up straighter in my command chair. "Lieutenant, initiate slip-space sequences," I then summoned Timmy whose 21st century dressed avatar appeared on the holotank connected up to my command chair. "Timmy, inform the crew that we're entering slip-space."

"Affirmative, ma'am." Timmy immediately replied in his bland, emotionless voice before disappearing a few moments later.

Hearing the iconic sound of a slip-space portal opening, I turned my attention to the large window covering the front of the bridge, and saw the large slip-space portal appear off bow of the _Kryptonite._

I stared at the enormous dark blue and black portal as we got closer and closer to it. There was nothing but silence as we entered it, and once we did, the crew began cheering.

Being in slip-space often scared me. The surrounding space was nothing more than pitch black, and the darkness often freaked me out. Inside slip-space, there was nothing. It was like walking through death.

Looking for an excuse to leave the bridge, I quickly found one, and summoned Timmy again who immediately reappeared on the holotank. "How's the Fleet-Master doing?"

"He's stabilised, ma'am, and he's waiting to speak to you." Timmy told me, adding a stern warning. "And ma'am, 'Lodam's gone down to the brig and told him about your actions -he's not impressed, so be careful."

I let out an amused sigh. "Just as long as he remembers whose ship he's on, things'll be fine," I told Timmy, who nodded and disappeared upon me gesturing that he was no longer needed. After Timmy was gone, I turned my attention back to Red, and got out of my command chair while also asking him, "Wanna join me?"

"Sure. I'd like to see what makes this Elite tick as well." He replied, following me off the bridge.

We went through the corridor and arrived at the lift, and entered it. Red was about to press one of the holographic buttons when I placed a hand up for him to halt, and put a finger up to my earpiece. "Timmy, where's what's a good place to hold the meeting?"

"_Someone_ made the officer's lounge a no-go, so I'll have to re-analyse for potential-" Timmy halted for a second before adding his suggestion. "The amidships' hanger bay's a good bet, ma'am."

I waved for Red to press the appropriate button to take us to the deck. "That'll work. Get him escorted there pronto."

"Affirmative, ma'am."

The lift began rumbling as it descended a few floors. But the rumbling was quickly replaced by the cries of a baby.

I turned to face Red who was hearing it too, and the cries became more present until I heard it echoing throughout the lift. Turning to the sound, I saw the figure holding a crying baby in its arms.

Seeing what I was freaked me out. The figure wasn't shaped like Eric, so this wasn't related to my own aborted baby, but what did it mean. As was usual with me when I was a kid, I turned to Red for a bit of light on the situation. "Red...?"

"I have no idea, Nai. This is... messed up."

The figure smiled its demonic smile before both it and the baby in its arms disappeared into the air. As it did, the doors that it was in front of hissed open. Lynda was standing there, and she noticed the shocked expressions on our face.

"The fuck's wrong with my face?" Lynda angrily questioned us, pointing to her face which began to frown.

"Nothing more than usual." I joked, keeping the shocked expression on my face.

"Courtney," Lynda took a step forward, eyeing Red suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

Both Red and me quickly shook out of it, and I nodded in reply to Lynda's inquest. "Just... something," Lynda was about to say something in reply, but I continued before she could. "It's a... a problem both me and Red are having, but we're gonna talk to the robots 'bout it later."

"They're not replacing me or anything?" Lynda asked, smirking. Despite my obvious discomfort, she still joked. I knew she wasn't being rude -this was just how she acted. She always tried to cheer me up, and that's what made her a good friend. But recently, the roles had been reversed with her family being killed on _Atmosus._

"No," I chuckled, placing an arm around her shoulder as I led her down the corridor with me, Red at my rear. "They're annoying, but not enough to replace you as the most annoying little shit in my life."

Lynda made a joking sizzling sound, following suite with a laugh. Red also chuckled somewhat -which reassured me that he still had his sense of humour.

Once Lynda started joking, it was hard to get her to stop. She continued to lead on with jokes connected to the previous ones she just did until we reached the hanger bay. It was full to the brim with Sentinels and Marines patrolling the area with Vale and the assassins in the centre of the bay, surrounded by both Marines and the Diverted -save the Grunts, who were sitting nearby, preparing for the show, joined quickly by the Jackal who relaxed next to them.

Lynda tapped my shoulder and pointed over to a small portable cargo lift that was being manned by Sergeant Major Jeff Woods. I nearly missed it being Woods since it appeared he shaved off his rough beard, but the energy sword scar going across his forehead and the combat knife tattoo on his face gave him away.

Woods was actually a member of the ODST Fireteam that went with Red back on _Quaint _to the Forerunner facility that Red disappeared at. Woods said that he was an ass to Red, and that he was one of the reasons Red ended up on Halo. I didn't care. He knew he fucked up, and he had a shit ton of mental fuck-ups come out of being the sole survivor of the ground forces assigned on the operation to the facility. He was being punished already, so there was no need to add to that.

Hating him to some extent, but not willing to show it, I didn't even glance at him as both me, Red, and Lynda hopped onto the lift, and turned to face the Fleet-Master, and waited for Woods to raise us up.

* * *

><p><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>

* * *

><p>There was a creaking sound as the ramp raised the Humans up to a height that I guessed was to show authority.<p>

A primitive tactic, it was. So long had the Covenant stood over Humanity, they must had found pleasure in standing over us. Was it not enough that so many just died out of their rage? Did I have to be looked down upon? I did not care, but it came to me as a weak motion that reflected negatively on my opinion of them.

I felt slightly nauseous. I was never good at being in the void, and the fact that Human vessels traverse the void slower than our own vessels bought about fear for a long, and uneasy journey. I had no doubt that I my nausea would conclude with me forcefully spilling, and I did not look forward to the time when it occurred. But _who _would look forward to such a time as a discomfort rises over them? My mind often spoke illogical words, but I never did.

Standing up straight, I placed my hands behind my back. If the Humans were going to use posture as words, I would act along. Qrs and his operatives did the same, and stood up straight, but did not copy my posture. "Tell me, Human, are all of your race so sadistic to act as you just did?" I questioned the Human, keeping my voice calm and stoic. If I knew Thel enough, then they perceived Sangheili as being nothing more than aggressive. Thel could remain composed at certain situations, but he was prone to outbursts of aggression.

The Human female leaned against the railings of the raised platform, and I could see a smile on her face. Thel gave me a device that connected around my right eye which translated Human words into subtitles that would display across the bottom on the HUD of the device. These were apparently created by the Huragok. I could not help but be amused by the amount that the Huragok could do that they never told us they could do. They hated us as much as I thought.

The Human turned her gaze to me, and answered. "_I_ don't know my own race enough to be able to answer that."

"Then perhaps there is honour in your race," I mused out-loud. "But _you _are not among them -unless honour is conceived differently in your race, and _this _was honourable in your eyes-"

"Nope," The Human Captain cut me off. "What I did was _more _than messed up, but I found joy in doing it, so, yeah, whatever."

I heard Thel hiss behind me, and heard him slowly approach me, and whispered to me, "See? They are without honour in their own military."

I slightly nodded in reply to Thel, considering his words, but not a lot. I knew he had become blinded by emotions towards the Humans. Whether this was always, or it occurred after being harmed mentally by a Human was a question I would ask him later.

Finally letting out a sigh, I realise what words I must speak next. "My brothers have informed me of everything. The plan to return to your homeworld, this 'Void Transendor', how you are the Reclaimers, the truth behind Halo and the Parasite. I know everything. So, if you would please explain what I must do to indulge you, I would like to retire and muse on the deaths of thousands of my brothers."

"'Thousands'?" The Captain asked, amusement in her voice. "I was hope that it would be _tens _of thousands."

Thel and Qrs' operatives started hissing in protest, but both me and Qrs remained composed, but the resentment of the Human words were there, I just did not show it. "You are weak. You find joy in tormenting us, and that makes you weak."

The Captain nodded. "That's right, I'm weak. But I don't care. If being weak means I get to pleasure myself in fucking around with you, it's a fine sacrifice. But, aren't all Humans weak in your eyes?"

I shook my head, bringing my hand up to my bandaged chest to try and suppress the pain that was rising in it. Feeling the pain of the energy blade that I have used so much before, I felt some remorse that the Humans had to feel so much pain. Eventually, the pain subsided, and I turned my attention back to the Captain. "Most of us do, yes. But not me, no. I never saw your race a pest that needed to be wiped from existence, but simply a foe I had to crush out of existence under the orders I was given. But I _always _questioned the motive behind the war against your race -even if I did not speak it."

Qrs added, "Reasons there were for the war against you, yes. But those reasons had little merit in my mind as you were not the first." I noticed how the Captain seemed taken back by the dread in Qrs' tone, she almost seemed to be intimidated. Qrs had that affect as if it were natural, and nearly nobody could resist it.

I decided to add in on Qrs' words. "The Lekgolo, when we first encountered them, had caused the destruction of Forerunner relics as well. Yet, we indoctrinated them into the Covenant because they showed strategy that caused difficulties for us in our genocide against them. Your race, too, showed strategy that caused stress against us. Having you, your tactics, your culture, and implement Covenant technology into it all would make your race a worthy asset to the Covenant. We initiated the war because we, at first, had no idea how powerful your race was. But even so, peace, could had been an option -as was with the Lekgolo."

"And none of you dumbnut split-lips decided to question them?" The Captain growled, anger clear in her voice. And rightfully so.

"Questioning the current Hierarchs has not been as easy as the past. These three, they were volatile, cunning. Many initially questioned them, and they shot them down, accusing them of heresy. These days, questioning a Prophet is nigh impossible. So, all those who had doubt in their heart -me included- had to work in the shadows."

"But your race deserved the destruction we wreaked!" Thel snapped at them. Even from here, I could hear the hissing in his words.

"I hope you are wrong," I remarked, not looking at Thel whose eyes I knew were not me. I clattered my mandibles together as I added, "I hope the Humans are not the disease we have been led to believe."

"I can't give a damn what you think of us," The Captain said aggressively, tapping her hand against the railing of the raised platform she was on before continuing. "It's _you _that needs to have consideration put into. Thel's so far played nice, but I'm septic with you and your assassin friends."

Thel was about to protest when I quickly, but calmly, interjected. "I have no such desire other than to remain neutral in relations. I would actually like to help your race, but I do not know if _I_ can trust _you_. The Ultra has emphasised that you have made a multitude of threats towards his life, so, I will comply, but no such threats are to reach my attention, understood?"

The Captain finally dropped her weak act, and started acting how I imaged she would. "I don't trust you, Nary boy, but you're shaping up to be a hell of a lot better than 'Lodam, so I'll give you free reigns," The Captain pushed up from leaning on the railings where she continued to address me. "As for the threats: I'll make it clear that threats are forbidden, and whatever opinions people have are to be kept to themselves, but if you do get threatened or insulted, come straight to me."

I nodded. "Understood. Thank you for you level-headed speech approach, and if you could maintain that approach, I believe our cooperation will be increased greatly."

She waved to the warrior at the controls of the ramp, and that warrior pressed a button that made the ramp lower. "That'll be fine since you now passed my test." I narrowed my eyes at her words. 'Test'? I was impressed by the Human's strategy. She was attempting to see how I would react out of insulting me, and I remained composed, so I passed. How cunning of her.

The Captain, Demon, and other female walked off of the ramp, nodded for the Human warriors around us to stand down, and began walking to a nearby lift. I kept my eyes on the Human, awaiting any possible further tests. After the three of them entered the lift and disappeared, I turned around to face Thel. "I can see where her provocations come from."

"Where?" Thel questioned.

Before I answered, I turned around and saw Qrs and his operatives -named Nrex 'Jqunelai, Vinra 'Attlenai, and Krnat 'Xerosai- follow Anve and the rest of the so called 'Diverted' to another lift. "She finds pleasure in provoking you to anger," I told him, going after the others with Thel right behind me. "Ignore her actions; ignore the actions of all the Humans, and they will halt in time."

"It is hard." Thel replied, and I could tell that it _was _hard by just listening to his tone, by just hearing his mandibles twitch and coil together as he spoke.

"I have little -if not no- doubt. But the amount of challenges you have overcome, brother, this should be no hard task. I will be here, if you need anything." I reassured him.

"I had help overcoming those tasks..." Thel sighed, he was reluctant to continue, but he did, nonetheless. "help... from the Demon."

"And yet, you despise him." I observed, rubbing my lower mandibles in curiosity, but stopping shortly after as the pain from my beating at the hands of Careekius earlier came into play. It was still hard to move and touch my mandibles, or any part of my head, and this grew on me for I often enjoyed massaging my lower mandibles out of pleasure.

"It was not so, once. The Demon had honour, and respected us as warriors. But it was a lie. He... changed, and now He is not the same as He once was."

I halted, turned to face Thel who too halted as I did, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is _always _a reason for a change of mindset. Think, brother, why would the Demon be different?"

"...The Gravemind?"

I nodded. "Correct. If what you told me about the recent occurrences, then this is the reason," I tightened my hold on Thel's shoulder, and calmly added, "You think you were betrayed by the Demon, and now that betrayal has blinded you into thinking all Humans are similar, and are _all _the same -_Nishum._"

Thel growled lightly as he protested. "No, my eyes have been_ opened_! The Demon that had honour, had respect -it was an illusion! The Demon did not change, it was reconstructed! No Humans have the honour and respect that we have! None!"

I could tell Thel was broken, to an extent. He was unhealthy, mentally, as I was. I could see Skae, who had never left me. Standing behind Thel, looking at me with a plain expression. Was he angry at me for allowing him to die? Did he want to speak to me, but could not? I had mental issues, but I would not lose my mind over it. Thel was too close already, and I had to sway him from the path.

"How well do you know any Humans to be able to make that judgement?" I questioned him, placing my other hand on his other shoulder. "Give them a chance. I have, and I am optimistic of the future."

Thel lowered his head, and kept it lowered for a moment as he mused. Once he was done, he slowly raised it up. He may had been wearing a helmet, but I could see the rage in his eyes through the eye visors of his helmet. I saw aggression that was unnatural for him, and I was afraid for his future. Finally, I heard the sound of Thel's mandibles parting with his saliva making a slimy sound as it moved around in his mandibles. I even saw the saliva drip out of the bottom of his helmet and onto the ground at an alarming rate.

Finally, a hissing sound came from Thel, and he coldly said, "_Never._"


	39. Mentality of The Damned

**(Joyce Campbell)**

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1239 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Medical Bay, Slip-Space]**

* * *

><p>"Damn" was what came to my mind when I finally saw the reason I was summoned.<p>

Lance Corporal Brian Davis definitely had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder -I never had any doubt- but it was worse than I thought. He was in a state of panic, leaning up in his medical cot, screaming as loud as he could in horror. What doctors there were available were trying to calm him down, but they weren't succeeding.

Staring in shock at the once cheerful Brian Davis -the one who always said "Dang"- being in this position, I quickly came to my senses when I saw a doctor pull out a syringe.

"HELP!" Davis screamed, real terror in his breaking voice. He didn't even notice the syringe coming into contact with his skin, and he was likely screaming for help for other reasons. I concluded that he was having a flashback to the murder of Amber Wong at the hands of Ivan Roras, and he was saying things he said then; standard symptoms in his case.

A proper assessment could come later, right now, I needed to stop the doctor. "Stop!" I ordered, rushing over into the panic. Other patients were leaning up in their cots, looking, and Tom Harvad had even jumped out of his cot and hurried over to help.

Snatching the syringe out of the doctor's hand, I quickly addressed his mistake. "I was called -didn't you hear? Why the hell didn't you wait for me?"

The doctor looked somewhat taken back by the authority in my voice. While I didn't like the authority taking hold, I couldn't let any doctor -whether they were ONI or not- get a free pass on a mistake they did. Addressing an issue always fixed it.

"I thought this was the right procedure." The doctor explained, the screaming of Brian almost muffling his words.

"Consult me, next time," I told him, turning to look at Davis. "You haven't got any jurisdiction here, so you can't be making decision like this."

The doctor nodded nervously. "Sorry."

Letting it slide, I hurried over to Davis' side, grabbing his shoulders, and looking him in the eyes. There was nothing but terror and horror in his eyes. I would watch the recording Timmy did of Roras' mutilation of Amber, to understand Brian's pain better, but I couldn't bring myself to. Instead, I had to make do with the understanding I had.

Keeping my voice calm, and with sympathy in it, I spoke directly to Brian. I had to break through his barrier. While I was no therapist, and this was not my job, I had some experience with situations like this, and I wasn't about to let it slide. "Brian, look at me... look at me!" Brian seemed to know I was here, and looked into my eyes. "You're safe, okay? Ivan Roras is dead; it's over."

"I can't-" He stuttered, gulping before continuing. "I can't get rid of the pictures!"

"I know," I bought him closer to me, resisting the urge to comfort him physically out of professionalism. "What you're going through is normal, and I'm going to help you the best I can, but you need to calm down in order for me to help you."

Tears began coming out of Brian's eyes. Only he could fully comprehend what he was going through. "It won't stop! He won't stop! She's..."

I turned back to look at the doctor who almost gave him the anesthetic earlier. "Give him a some Benzodiazephine to calm him down. When he's ready to talk, come get me."

The doctor nodded, and went over to a nearby medical bench and began getting the appropriate syringe and drug.

Turning my attention from the doctor back to Brian, I noticed Tom was still holding him down. Tom looked to be in a great deal of pain, and the doctor part of me made me interfere. "Tom, we have it, please get back to your cot before you hurt yourself."

Tom -compliant as usual- nodded, patted Brian's shoulder and leaned back off of him, and slowly walked back to his cot. As Tom reached his cot, my attention was diverted back to the doctor who came back with a syringe. Brian noticed the syringe, and began struggling. All Brian did was scream for help as loud as he could. He knew we were trying to help him, but his mind was in such a state of panic, there was no distinction between what help was, and what help wasn't.

I held Brian's right arm out as another doctor used a small antiseptic wipe to clean the skin before the doctor with the syringe injected the drug into his arm.

26th century drugs were a lot better than that of the earlier centuries that I had researched about, and Brian instantly slumped back into his bed, eyes opened, and slowing his breathing down.

Satisfied, I got up and addressed the doctors. "If his condition changes, have Timmy tell me immediately."

Both nodding, they broke off with one tending to Brian while the other tended to another patient. As I watched the doctor tending to another patient go over to Tom first, I noticed David Larson in the background, laying in his cot, tied down with a straight-jacket. Next to him was his Grunt and Engineer friend, and a Marine guarding them to make sure the Grunt didn't try to free David.

Getting a closer look at him, I was not shocked to see that his leg had to be amputated after the damage Red did to it. He seemed uncomfortable in his position, but I understood the precaution.

Another person I saw that was there was Doctor Hallas Day. Hallas was an ONI scientist aboard the ship, and likely Rhine Dorhan's only _true _friend. He took Rhine's death hard, and didn't particularly like Red, but I didn't blame his hate. I too was upset at the SPARTAN for the needless execution of Rhine. I would question the SPARTAN about it, but I never had the time, and I refused to question him about it during my session with him that was upcoming soon unless I deemed it necessary.

Despite Hallas' grief, he seemed to be enjoying speaking to David, the Grunt, Yoplap, and the Engineer. I wasn't eager to engage in a conversation with David with the Grunt nearby -I hated Grunts- but it had been a while since I last spoke to David, and I was worried for his mental state. The Captain had told me that Timmy had told her that Red seemed to be about to kill David when he didn't. the Captain seemed to think there was more to it, and if the Gravemind being sadistic was as true as they said it was, then I had a number of theories to what could had happened.

Ignoring the Grunt, I pulled up a seat and sat down next to David. "How have you been?" I asked, noticing the Grunt staring at me which made me more uncomfortable.

"Terrible," David replied indifferently, eyeing where his left leg was meant to be. "They removed my leg without my consent."

Hallas shrugged. "I don't blame them; you still haven't surrendered," Hallas cleared his throat as he continued. "so your consent doesn't really matter."

Having a theory, I expressed it. "It could had been for strategic reasons as well," Turning my attention back from musing to David, I elaborated. "If they take your leg away, you're a great deal more ineffective in combat."

"I was actually talking to David about that," Hallas said, diverting my attention back to him. "I was saying that there was a REAP-X developed mechanical leg that the Captain had agreed to hook him up to if he gave in to her demand-"

"I had an order," David interjected, voice composed, but maintaining the gruff military tone that he always had. "and I intend to follow those orders to the letter."

"Rhine's dead," I reminded him, keeping some remorse at the words in my voice to not upset Hallas. "and trying to maintain regulations by removing the Captain from command will only end in your death," Leaning forward, I enabled my "serious tone". "It's not bad to admit defeat, and sometimes, you just have to stop fighting so you can live to fight _another _day."

David didn't show any physical reactions to my advise, and, knowing him, there was no psychological reactions happening either. Finally, after a few long seconds, David replied to my advise. "I'm a soldier; I'm given an order, and I don't cease carrying out that order until it's been carried out, or the CO who commissioned the order relieves me of it-"

Hallas interjected this time. "Rhine's dead, David-"

"So," David interrupted, eyeing us both curiously. He didn't fully trust us, and I didn't blame him. "I will wait until others with jurisdiction relive me."

The Grunt, Yoplap, placed its large hand on David's own tied down arm, and I was preparing to rush over and forcefully remove the little creature's hand when it spoke up. The creature's words were initially garbled in its language, but as soon as it began speaking, I placed my hand up to my ear, and turned the translating ear-piece on. "Dav, please, no be mean to Humans. You protect me from mean Sangheili, please no be mean, and be sent away, and no protect us."

The Grunt seemed rather upset, but it could just be its translating voice translating in the wrong tone. Either way, I didn't want to sympathy for it. Grunts were evil little devils. I saw one rip apart my five-year-old son while I was being evacuated from _Skopje_ a couple of months ago. It was a memory still fresh in my mind, and I wouldn't fall for the illusion that _some_ Grunts were more sadistic as others since they were all a grave-mind like culture -a fact established by ONI's research into the Grunts.

To my surprise, David seemed to be considering the Grunt's words. So far, no Marine aboard the _Kryponite _had been killed by a Grunt, but apparently, a highly trained ONI killing machine with a cold, stoic, psyche seemed to be affected by the words of a single Grunt -that was a Minor!

My dead son's face came to my head. I was usually calm in most situations involving visual and verbal mentioning to my son's death on _Skopje, _and my wife's death a few years earlier during the Covenant's glassing of her homeworld, _Deserae. _I always hated myself for allowing her to visit her parents on that planet when the Covenant could had attacked it out of nowhere, and now, the only reason I hadn't killed myself out of spite for my failure to save my son was the goal of helping others in life, and living with what I had done as punishment -death, was too easy.

No father should ever have to watch his son die. And no father should be the reason of his son's death. I put him down for only a _few _seconds to wave for the rescue Pelican, and I was ambushed by a Grunt Lance. A plasma round to the chest put me down, and I watched as the leader of the Grunt Lance tore my son apart while I watched.

I screamed, and, ironically, the Pelican never saw me. I only lived because the Lance's leader, an Elite, caught up with his Lance, and slaughtered the entire Lance in rage at the barbaric act. I managed to use the diversion to escape, and I always had it in my mind that the Elite _let _me go.

My disturbance didn't go by mentally, only, and my expression changed into one of horror at the vivid images of my son's death. I could provide therapy for others as best I could in my position as a Psychologist, but I couldn't save myself.

Hallas, worried, got up off of his stool and walked over to me where he knelt down next to me. David was watching me as well, assessing the situation, and the Engineer hovered over and began stroking my arm, noticing my discomfort.

I wanted to be there for David, but I couldn't be there with the Grunt so close. Ignoring Hallas asking me what was wrong, I calmly got out of my seat, and made for the door. The Engineer didn't follow, but Hallas did, and he tugged at my shoulder and pulled me back around, worry showing in his brown eyes.

Hallas was young for a scientist of the Officer of Naval Intelligence. He wore a basic ONI lab-coat, a datapad in a pocket on the inside of his coat, and stylus clipped onto his coat's chest pocket. He had short brown hair that matched the color of his eyes, and his face was somewhat normal for someone who had heard the words "Geek" and "Nerd" directed at him all too often. The bridge of his nose was thin and short, but his nostrils were a bit rounder. He didn't have any facial hair save a small stubble around his mouth, and his brows didn't angle, and went straight across his forehead. His cheekbones were roundish, and his upper lip went over his lower lip slightly as his average shaped jaw went back a bit.

Not being much of a field scientist, his build wasn't impressive, but if he needed to escape a fight, I saw no problems in it. I often saw him walking tracks at the ship's gym, so if he didn't have the tone, he had the fatigue.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, concern masking his usual calm tone. I didn't know Hallas as much as Rhine did, and it was likewise with him, but Hallas was someone who always cared -no matter who you were. If he saw me in distress, he would approach me, and ask what was wrong -as I had just witnessed.

"The Grunt," I gestured towards the damned creature that was watching me curiously. "...I don't like being around it."

Hallas never had a reason to read my file, so I wasn't surprised at him being oblivious to my hatred of Grunts. I read his file myself, but he was young, so I didn't blame his lack of commitment.

"Okay. I just thought... you know?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I do. Thank you, for your concern, Hallas. I just need to retreat for a bit; I have an appointment soon, anyway. Um, tell me if anything changes with David, please?"

Hallas nodded. "Yeah, of course," He turned around and made back to David, the Lighter Than Some, and the Grunt, turning back to face me, adding, "Sorry to have held you up."

"It's fine." I reassured him, turning back around and making to the door. The door _hissed _opened once I reached it, and I gasped in surprise to see Captain Jsarez standing on the other side.

She gave me a small, friendly smile. "Did I scare you?"

I nodded, rubbing the back of my head. "...Yeah."

She chuckled slightly, then looked past me at something before cocking her head in a gesture for me to follow her. Curious, I followed her out of the medical bay and to the side of the entrance where she leaned against the opposite the wall next to the entrance, crossing her arms. I didn't know what she wanted to speak about, but I wasn't fearful as we had already resolved any potential tension to come out of my siding during the "Mutiny". She was pissed at me, initially, but understood where I was coming from, and expressed regret at Rhine's death, and told me that she didn't think it would come to it. I was inclined to believe her, but I had my doubts.

"Are you coming to see Captain White?" I asked her. Her relationship with White was no secret to me. I began therapy with Lynda Keyes after the news of her families death reached her, and during her session with me earlier in the day, she told me how she thinks that Dean and the Captain fancy each other.

"Yeah. Did you see him?" She asked.

I wanted to see Dean after speaking with David, but I couldn't stand being in there with the Grunt, so I had to put it off. But I had heard earlier that he was stable, and conscious, but couldn't speak -yet. They were getting ready to put him through surgery to repair his arteries and vocals. This ship, thankfully, had a nice supply of medical equipment -courtesy of ONI- so Dean would be able to talk again with extensive reconstructing on the doctors' part. "No. One of the Grunts is talking with David, and-"

She broke me off, putting her hand up. "You don't need tread down that path, doctor."

I smiled and nodded in gratitude before bringing up the main topic on my mind. "So, what did you need to see me about?"

"You're seeing Red soon, right?" She asked.

I nodded in confirmation, leaning against the wall behind me. "Yes, ma'am. I'll just be doing a short session with Sergeant Major Wade Tulnai, then I'll be seeing your brother," I cocked my head sharply a bit, hearing the satisfying crack as gas released from my neck joints before adding, "Why did you ask?"

"I thought that maybe you could she some light on something."

"Go ahead." I gestured for her to continue.

She let out a sigh, pushing herself off of the wall she was leaning on. "The Gravemind's still able to see things both past, and present; I've even ran a few tests to be sure that I've gotten the facts right," I nodded, curious, as she continued. "and the facts seem to be right. The Gravemind -despite the Precursor artifact being destroyed with Halo- is still being effected by the artifact, and it's not telling me why."

"And how do you think I can help?" I questioned her. I too wondered if the Gravemind still had the effects of the artifact, and if not, why it let it get destroyed with Halo so easily.

She shrugged. "No idea. But the Gravemind seems to be opening up to you more than anyone else, so maybe you can convince it or something."

"I'll try my best. But this seems to be something that perhaps the Monarch, Monitor, or even the Hybrids may be able to help with," I examined the look on her face. To her, we weren't alone. "...I also recommend that you speak to them about the figure you're seeing as well, ma'am."

She grinned. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"It shows on your face," I stated, cracking my knuckle joints, feeling a bit of pleasure as the gas released. "It's only minor, but it's enough to tell me that you're disturbed."

She nodded, beginning to eye the figure invisible to me, Apparently, it was standing right beside me, if her eye direction was correct. "It's getting worse. It no longer morphs into Eric, or anything else, but sticks to its form of the FUBAR version of me and Red chucked in a blender together, and instead holds a crying baby in its arms, now."

I instantly had a thought, and expressed it. "Your abortion-"

She put her hand up to cut me off. "I don't think it's that, doc, I get the feeling that it's more... third-party."

I pushed off of the wall I was leaning on, as the Captain did about a minute earlier. "I'll ask Red what he sees, but if it's the Gravemind, I really can't help you, I'm afraid. It's best that you ask the Forerunner AIs about it, soon."

She nodded. "I'll do so tomorrow," I was about to protest when she added, "I'd do it today, but I gave the go-ahead for a party celebrating our escape and the Marine Corps' 772nd birthday tonight, and I don't want to find out anything that could ruin the fun I plan on having."

I nodded, understanding the motive. "I see where you're coming from. Just, don't put it off any longer," I looked away from her, back down the hall I had to go down to reach my office. "Anyway, I should get going. If you need anything at all, come find me, or have Timmy find me."

She gave me a parting smile, heading back into the medical bay and leaving me to continue to my office.

I admired Captain Jsarez both as a person, and a leader. According to her file, she tried to do a multitude of university courses to get to the educational level required to be commissioned into the Navy, but never got far in the courses due to her lack of a solid high-school education. So, she instead enlisted, and quickly worked her ways up from enlisted to Non-Commissioned Officer to Commissioned Officer. FLEETCOM was just that impressed by her leadership skills that she displayed when she had to take the helm of the ship she served on after her Captain was killed when a plasma salvo hit their ship. After that, it had been clean sailing for her.

But, Captain Jsarez _did not _respect the ranking structure of the UNSCDF. I saw one fine example of this when I stumbled into Major Tyler Hauver and Second Lieutenant Rick Cylus.

The Captain bumped Tyler up from Sergeant Major to _Major _just like that. Doing so would get her court-martialled, but she didn't seem to care, and nobody stood in her way. But, promoting a Senior Non-Commissioned Officer up to the rank of a _Major _was totally against a number of regulations. I wasn't a Marine, but I did my research to understand a lot of the military slang that my patients would speak.

Adam Franti didn't stand in the Captain's way, and didn't complain when he was demoted down to the rank of First Lieutenant, neither did Toless Morgan complain when he was demoted from First Lieutenant down to Second to make room for Adam.

The entire ranking structure aboard the _Kryptonite _had been manipulated to suit ONI's needs. There were no Platoons, Companies of Battalions, and everyone had been organized into Fireteams with Marines doing things that other Marines their rank would _never _do. Dean White was a Captain, yet he was in charge of _all _the Marines, not just a Company. Tyler was a Major, and he was in charge of all the _ODSTs. _Both had a single Second and First Lieutenant backing them up, and they only served as executive officers to assist them rather than command Platoons. It was anarchy, and it annoyed me how little ONI considered the organized ranking structure.

Shaking the irritation out of my head, I turned my attention back to Tyler and Rick. Tyler was carting a carton of beer while Rick was carrying several bags of potato chips -no doubt preparing for the party tonight.

Tyler was too young to be a Commissioned Officer promoted via a field promotion -being only twenty-four years old. He was very muscular, had a simple tan going over his white skin, and looked like a typical Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. He had medium length black hair with a fringe that covered his hazel eyes to some extent, but his eyes were reported to turn black in combat for reasons I hadn't been told. Again, ONI.

His face matched that of a macho, pretty-boy -my own words I used to use towards the jockeys at my school. Despite his look, he was a rather down-to-earth type of guy. He was always friendly when I bought up conversation with him, and he always respected those higher in rank than him.

I understood why the Captain put so much trust in him.

"Hey, Joyce, you going to be joining the party later?" Tyler asked as I passed him, making me stop and turn around to face him directly. Tyler was one of the few people aboard the ship who called me by my first name, and it wasn't because we were friends -on the contrary, he didn't seem enjoy his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder sessions with me all that much.

"Not sure if it's my place to attend."

Tyler flashed me a reassuring smile. "We greenhorns are always welcoming of civvies joining on our parties -after all, _our_ parties are the best."

"Oorah!" Rick happily, but calmly, added to Tyler's words, lightly pounding his free left hand on the right side of his chest.

Grinning, Tyler added, "The trench monkeys don't got shit on us."

Smiling at the Marine's slang, I quickly thought over what he said. The party wasn't just celebrating the Marine Corp's birthday, but also celebrating our escape from Halo, and the imminent end to the war, so I shouldn't had been worrying about "Being out of place". "Can't argue with that logic. I'll be there, Major, just don't disappoint."

Tyler grinned in success, adding, "That's good. It's gonna be a _really _wild party, and the cap say's she's throwing all the regs out the window-"

"She's the best." Rick remarked.

Ignoring Rick, Tyler continued. "-So this will probably go from party to orgy to slumber party, back to orgy then back to a normal party for the last hours-"

"Swabbies are getting it lucky." Rick remarked.

Tyler continued. "-Make sure you bring a dick protector if you plan for any pumping and dumping; the ladies on this tub have more infections than a week-long dead Jackal corpse."

I was a little dumbfounded by Tyler's slander. Usually, my only interactions with the crew was when I had sessions with them, and when I did, they almost always dropped the Marine slander, and opened up on a more "Normal" side. So, interacting with Marines outside of that was new, but, thankfully, Tyler's slang usage was limited to when he was around his comrades, by himself, or around me as everyone knew that they could be themselves around me with no repercussions. But despite his attitude, I didn't forget the reasons he had sessions with me -I couldn't forget, he was a unique case.

Deciding to indulge him -which was a mistake- I replied to his question in an equally sarcastic matter. "Regulations forbid me from having any sexual relations with my patients."

Tyler grinned, craning his head back around to flash Rick a look of disbelief before turning his attention back to me. "I'm pretty sure not _every _lady aboard the ship is a patient of yours."

Rick grinned in amusement as he interjected, "Don't know 'bout that, sir, split tails are pretty emotional." I didn't really like Rick's sexist remarks, but I understood him. I never had to provide therapy to him, but I did to his Fireteam Leader, Adam, and Adam would regularly talk about Rick along with the other members of Fireteam Night. According to Adam, Rick was the most uplifted of the group, and most -if not all- of the offensive words he used was fake. I understood it as a stimulant and not him having mental issues with women, and, again, he apparently _never _used the slang around females.

Tyler shrugged in reply to Rick's earlier interjection. "I hope you're right. If so, just means there's more for us to knock up."

"Need to get them drunk, first." Rick laughed, giving me a parting nod as he nudged the Major onward. I laughed along with the two as they both continued on their way. As they passed me, Rick turned back to face me -unbeknownst to Tyler- and mouthed something that I didn't pick up on before turning his attention back to the front of him and continuing along with Tyler.

Despite Rick's enthusiastic attitude, he often had mood swings, and would go all quiet and calm. This often happened in a situation he couldn't cope in. Like Adam, Rick suffered from depression, and I saw on his face that the news Adam gave him relating to his conviction was only making it worse.

I didn't blame his mental state over it. I was appalled when I heard the news from Toless earlier, and it made me almost sick to think about that being added to Rick's stress. He was attacked by an Elite a year or so back, and he suffered a lot of wounds from it, as well as contracting a serious case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that had the common effect of making him wake up in the night, screaming. While this wasn't new to me, it was new to Fireteam Night. Adam had depression, and often talked about committing suicide, and how he was only continuing on with life to keep the rest of Fireteam Night safe. Theodore Douglas didn't have any mental illnesses associated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but suffered a lot because of his past, and his convictions, and the motive behind the murders he committed. Ivan never talked to me at all, and I never complained. And Toless only ever spoke about how he regrets murdering the young models, and asked for advice on how he went from being a monster, to having a moral compass.

So, Rick was the first among them to come to me relating to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Adam could be linked as well, since the trauma of hearing about his family's death hit him hard, but he didn't really get Post Traumatic Stress out of it and rather just fell into depression over it.

All of Fireteam Night was a compilation of the darkest stories in the universe, and I was being paid to listen to them.

After walking down the dimmed lighted corridors of the _Kryptonite_ for the past fifteen minutes, I arrived at the entrance to my office, and just as I did, I saw Wade Tulnai appear around the corner of a junction up the other way, and walk over to join me.

"Right on time." I observed, waiting for Timmy to open the door.

"I pride myself over perfection." Wade explained as he positioned himself next to me, entering my office with me once the door had _hissed _open. I immediately took to my seat, and Wade didn't waste any time, neither.

Puling out my stylus and datapad, I turned my attention to him as he took his seat opposite of me. "Coffee?" I asked him.

He shook his head. Wade, like half of the _Kryptonite's _crew, was a man of few words. He only spoke when he needed to, and that was hardly ever. I understood why. Speaking often reminded you of things you would like to forget. With Wade, he wanted more than anything to forget the three families he lost to the Covenant.

First, when he was eighteen and freshly a Marine, he lost his parents, grandparents, aunts , uncles, siblings; everyone, basically, when _Eridanus II _was glassed by the Covenant. I knew that was a game changer for him, and it only started him on the road of being as cold and stoic as he was now. But, he managed to somewhat recover, and married and had a child... on _Jericho VII. _It wasn't long after his son's third birthday, and Wade's redeployment to a distant planet that his new family was killed when the Covenant attacked the colony.

For almost ten years, he was nothing more than a cold, hard killing machine for the UNSC. But, after some respite on _New Llanelli, _he met a women that although he didn't marry, he had a child with. Realizing the risks, he made sure that she had the funding required to get transport to _Earth _before the Covenant arrived, and left on a frigate that was on a course to _Earth _himself, ready to resign from the Corps once he reached the legendary planet. According to what he said he heard, it was the day that his new family was due to leave _New Llanelli _that the Covenant arrived, and subsequently glass the planet.

He became like Adam after the news reached his ears, never planning on having another family again -even if the war ended in his lifetime. His only commitment was to kill every Covenant soldier he could, and the Captain warned me that Wade mightn't had been able to distinguish between the Covenant, and the Diverted.

That is why this appointment was so important.

Opening the personal file I had on him on my datapad, I finally began, stylus in hand, and eyes on my datapad for when I would start writing. "So, how is your arm?"

"Tolerable, but still bothersome," Wade leaned back in the chair he was in. "It hasn't tampered my combat efficiency."

I noticed with Wade that he had an alarming amount of similarities to Red's "098" personality -an idea I used lightly. He spoke little, and when he did, he often used words of a more complex variety; I never understood why.

"That's good to know," I said truthfully, writing down his condition report onto my datapad. "Well, if you're holding up physically, how about mentally?"

I took into account how Wade's expression didn't change. It was either my blunt question didn't faze him, or -and I found this the more likely option- he already knew about the Captain and I's concerns.

"Tense; if not more. I don't trust the Diverted."

That was all I needed to hear to know I needed to dive in quickly. "I don't think anyone does, but are you planning on acting out?"

My question was another blunt one, and I noticed how he leaned forward in his seat, diverting all his attention to my question. I concluded that he knew why this appointment was arranged, but didn't suspect I would be so blunt. "Not unless they act first."

I frowned in confusion. "Could you please explain?" I began writing down what he had just told me as he began explaining.

"I know how important their survival is -despite the Captain's claims that their lives have zero value. I won't strike first, but I'll be there if _they _do."

I nodded, acknowledging his motive. "I think that will satisfy the Captain. But you don't to worry about the Diverted. Timmy's watching them at all times-"

"I don't trust the AI, neither," Wade broke me off. "and I have a valid reason for earning towards this state of thought."

I half expected Timmy to appear to reassure Wade of his sincerity, but the AI understood how important it was for him _not _to interrupt my sessions, so I was thankful of its personality programming. "I understand your reasons. But, unless Timmy is approaching rampancy, there's nothing to stop him from doing everything in his power to protect us."

"The original Timmy I had no doubts towards," Wade leaned back into his cushioned seat. "but the modifications the Engineer did is attracting a lot of my attention. It's something the Captain should take into account, immediately."

I nodded, understanding where he was coming from. "I'll talk to the Captain about it, okay?" I wrote down everything he had recently told me onto my datapad. "This is definitely something that should be looked into."

Wade nodded in gratitude. "Then, if it's all right, I'd like to end this session."

"Yes, yes, of course," I placed my datapad onto my seat as I got up and gestured for him to do the same. When it came to Wade, the sessions never lasted long; there were too many memories that arose during them. I wouldn't force him to stay longer than he had to. "And remember," I added as we reached the door. " You can always talk to me if you need to."

"Talking's not healthy for me." Wade replied as he left.

With about half an hour before Red arrived, I went back to my seat and finished compiling a report about Wade before having a coffee and reviewing Red's file one last time. By the time I was done, Red was walking through the door and taking a seat.

There was one other thing I did during the half an hour, and that was send for one of the largest Marines on the ship to attend the session.

As Red took his seat, First Lieutenant Adam Franti calmly moved over to the seat, and took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Red. Red was already aware of the precautions I had to take in case he did had Dissociative Identity Disorder. A person with a past as dark as his was bound to have some personalities that were dangerous.

But before we began, I had to bring up what his sister talked to me about. "Before we begin-"

He immediately broke me off. "Don't bother. The Gravemind's not going to tell anyone its secret anytime soon, so you can save your breath. For the record, I'm pissed at this as well, but after recent events, I'm not going to push the Gravemind."

I was a little shocked at this, but remembered that the Gravemind was inside my mind right now, watching my thoughts. It was an unnerving thought. "What about the figure?" I asked, hoping that the Gravemind had told him about that part of our conversation as well.

"The Gravemind won't tell me much out of it enjoying me working it out myself, but, it does tell me that the baby, is not related to us."

I wrote all he told me down onto my datapad. This was a game changer, of sorts. I didn't fully know what Red or the Gravemind meant, but I did know that it added to the Captain's vibes that the baby was a "Third-Party" entity. There was something else in the works here.

"Okay," I began, gripping my datapad tightly. I was nervous, and rightfully so. "Now that that's out-of-the-way, are you ready for the more complicated procedures? Has the Gravemind released control yet?"

Red nodded. "Yes... there's something there, I can feel it."

"Then I'll do my best to bring it out. We just need to find the right trigger," I turned towards Adam and nodded, and he went over to the large screen on the wall to the left of the sitting area, typed in a few commands on the screen's console, and moved out-of-the-way as the recording from his armor showed the murder of the Elite, Jol 'Turasee, at the hands of Malcolm Smith.

It may had triggered for the alter, it may not -it was a case of waiting. I knew that the Gravemind could probably cause different alters to take control, but it seemed like the creature was intrigued by the concept of Dissociative Identity Disorder, and would stay idle to see what happens. I saw how problematic it could be if the Gravemind started making other alters take control at random times.

After about ten minutes of replaying the recording over and over again, Red finally sat up straight, and cocked his neck until it cracked before straightening it again. I took in every detail. He started blinking at seven second intervals, stared straight ahead, and didn't move at all. This wasn't Red.

Gripping my datapad tighter as a wave of fear washed over me at the thought of being where I was, I did what I had to, and began speaking to the alter. "Red?"

The alter didn't turn its attention to me, but shook its head nonetheless.

"Who am I talking to?" I asked it.

"Juridical." The alter answered in an emotionless, haunting tone.

Multiple theories went through my head. Often, alters referred to themselves in titles over names, and this one seemed no different. But, given its name, I guessed that this personality was created when 098 -the personality that took over from Red as the main personality- tried to suppress his sense of justice. The Captain made Timmy give her access to all the files aboard the ship about the SPARTAN-II Program, and she allowed to me examine the files as well -which I didn't refuse. What I saw shocked me.

SPARTAN's killed civilians at an alarming rate during operations that were tiered towards the Insurrectionist rather than the Covenant. Often then not, civilians would witness secret operations, and the SPARTANs would be ordered to eliminate them to prevent a security breach. It was typical evil Government crap that I thought only happened in movies, but it _was _real, and 098 didn't go unaffected by it.

I concluded that if my theory was right, then Juridical was created when 098 suppressed Red's sense of justice so much, that his mental state couldn't handle it, and broke off another personality for it.

"Okay, Juridical," I finally replied before gesturing to the screen. "what does this mean to you?"

Juridical calmly turned his head to look at the screen before turning back to face me. "It is injustice."

I noticed the contradiction there. 098 seemed to had been able to suppress both Red and Juridical -and any other alter- masterfully, so why did he let Juridical slide into control when Jol died? And why didn't Juridical take control other times when 098 killed _Human_ civilians or carried out other forms of injustice?

"How so?" I asked, improvising.

"It was unwarranted."

Again, I saw a rather large amount of contradiction in Juridical's words. "So was the death of the civilians 098 killed throughout the years."

Juridical's answer was all I needed to put all the contradictions to rest. "The closer the main's sister got, the more the main broke through the containment."

That explained 098's odd behavior before the mission to the Library that I had heard about. Red was coming through because his mental connection with the Captain was getting stronger. Then, the Gravemind took control, allowing Red to regain control, and the alters were suppressed again, not having any affect on Red unless the Gravemind allowed it.

Juridical wasn't dangerous, I knew that much. I knew what his triggers were, but I needed to know the triggers of the others. "Are there any other alters other than you and 098?" I asked him.

Juridical nodded.

"How many?"

"I have limited knowledge on your query. Like the main, we are only now aware of each other. I knew I was not the main, but the others may have not." Juridical's explanation made sense. As soon as a personality was made, they would have either false memories made up by the mind, or have memories that the mind broke off from the main personality and gave to the alter. If an alter was created while 098 was in control, I didn't see any reason why they wouldn't think of themselves as the main personality if they had no way of knowing if there was an alter personality.

"What do you know about them?" I asked, writing everything I had heard so far down onto my datapad.

"I have limited knowledge on your query. I know of the presence of few, and the third party-" I took it that "Third party" meant the Gravemind. "-and I will willingly establish all my knowledge," I nodded for him to go ahead, stylus in hand. "The number of alters eludes me, so far, I am aware of at least five more alters -including 098. I have no knowledge on their triggers, and the only other relevant knowledge I have on the alters is the personality of one."

"And what personality is that?" I asked him.

"I have knowledge on your query," His wording reminded me of 098's which was no surprise since this alter was created during 098's control. "The personality is volatile and aggressive. A tracing of its trigger comes out of my sequential words: It has a hatred towards Thel 'Lodam."

That didn't surprise me. Though, Red was angry at the Elite Ultra over the death of his comrade, it was 098 that was in control when she was killed, so any emotions towards it that 098 had, was likely broken off and separated into an alter. I could only dread to think about the personality of the alter.

"If it's okay, I'm going to try to bring the alter out." I told Juridical for which he nodded in reply.

I had a basic grasp on what I needed to do, and I nodded for Adam to approach the large screen and help Timmy do the necessary tasks. Timmy would broadcast a recording of when Thel was talking to the Elite named Anve about Sheila earlier after Red first retook control, and attacked Thel.

The recording was of Thel and his comrade, Anve, in the officer's lounge with the other Elites, Grunts, and Jackal either sitting around talking to each other, sleeping, or, in the Jackal's case, drinking Human liquor that would probably kill it.

Timmy tuned off all of the audio except the words Thel and Anve were saying, and I carefully studied Juridical's face for any signs of change.

"You inquired?" Thel asked Anve.

"Yes, brother. Forgive me but I needed to know the Demon's intentions as much as you did." Anve explained.

So far, there was no change on Juridical's face.

"And what did you hear?" Thel asked Anve.

"Nothing good. Humanity's leaders, they have secrets plenty enough to rival the High Council. The Demons, they are the product of genetic and biological mutation. They were apparently forcefully and discretely taken from their families at a young age and forced to fight all their lives. Their emotions are hardly, but their bonds are closely knitted."

Thel let out a light growl. Even the translator that Timmy was using for the recording didn't translate the animalistic growl. "That is no excuse to betray the trust I had in the bastard!" Thel hissed, obviously upset. "He has killed _hundreds _of our race, brother, yet, I did not hold hatred for him because I knew, he was _just doing his duty _as a warrior! As was I!"

As soon as I saw Juridical's eyes squint, I waved, and Timmy immediately turned the recording off. Juridical wasn't lying, this alter _was _violent. Its first actions were to turn to face me, let out an aggressive hiss, and try to pull the handcuffs off, all the while wheezing and sniffing as tears started pouring from his eyes.

"A DUTY_ I_ NEVER WANTED!" The alter screamed in rage, crying. I quickly waved Adam to get ready in case the personality got more violent towards us. "_SHE... _she never wanted it too." The alter ended its struggle, and collapsed back into the chair it was seated on, crying as hard as it could.

I needed to question it, but I was scared shitless that it would only provoke it. Ultimately, I decided to speak up. "If you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

The alter turned its attention to me with a snap of its head, making me almost jump. It looked like it was going to yell at me, but its voice was calm, if not full of emotions. "I- I'm Manson." I wondered how the alter's name was connected to Red.

"Why are you so upset?" I asked him -again, improvising.

"Because, he killed Sheila!"

I leaned forward in my seat. "And what did Sheila mean to you?" I asked.

"I- I don't know," Manson sniffed. "Nothing, I guess. But, she's dead! And for me, that's all that matters!" I suspected this when he said his name. From what I could tell, the alter didn't have the relationship emotions towards Sheila that Red and 098 did, but definitely felt something for her death, and hated Thel. This alter would be dangerous if the Gravemind let it loose.

"What would you do if you saw Thel?" I asked him to confirm my fears.

"I'd kill him," Manson calmly replied, still sniffing. "I'd kill him, and anyone who stood in my way! He _murdered _Sheila, so he deserves to die! WHY CAN'T ANYONE SEE THAT?!"

Foolishly, I tried to defend Thel. "You need to see it from Thel's perspective. Yes, he wanted-"

Manson slammed his cuffed hands onto the cushioned armrest of his seat, breaking me off. "NO!" He yelled, reminding me of when my son used to protest. "I WON'T SEE _ANYTHING _From his 'perspective'! He- HE'S A FUCKING ALIEN!"

Finding no way I could negotiate with the alter -negotiating was out of my league, anyway- I decided to take a few steps back and get back on track. "Okay, I won't talk about Thel."

"Thank you." Manson showed his gratitude, using his arm to wipe away the tears near his eye.

"But I need to ask you about what you know of the other alters."

Manson shook his head. "I... I don't know much about the other alters," He sniffed, still visibly upset over the recording. "I just-" He sighed. "I didn't even know they existed until a couple of days ago, and I haven't paid attention to any of them since; I just don't care about anything other than-..." He sniffled again.

I quickly raised my hand to reassure him that he could stop. "It's okay. Listen, I'd like to help you out, but right now, I need to speak to Red again." I had no idea how I would be able to make Red regain control, but according to the Captain, the Gravemind promised to give Red the extra nudge, and help him regain control.

Manson nodded. "You want to speak to Red?" He sniffed, wiping away more tears. "O-okay. Um, I'm not sure what to do."

"Just stay still." I told him, finishing up writing down everything he told me onto my datapad and looking up to face him. In just a moment, the anguish filled eyes of Manson were replaced with the calm eyes of Red.

As soon as Red had returned, he began wiping away the tears, dumbfounded. "What did you do to me?" He chuckled. "I feel like I'm calming down after throwing a tantrum."

I grinned. "You kind of did."

Red narrowed his eyes. "What did you learn?"

I straightened myself in my seat, turning my full attention to Red while waving Adam off. "So far, there's two personalities I've met -excluding 098. There's Juridical - who was created when 098 was in control, and harbors 098's sense of justice. It was the personality that allowed Thel to kill Malcolm."

"And the other?" Red asked.

"Manson. He's made up from 098's grief over Sheila's death. Needless to say, he wants Thel dead more than you."

Red let out an amused huff at the notion. "I assume I got these tears from him?"

I nodded. "He has emotional problems. This, unfortunately, makes him dangerous," I narrowed my eyes. "Do you know if the Gravemind plans on using these alters in any way?"

Red leaned forward in his seat. "I'm not sure. It knows the danger, but it's curious to see what the other alters are, and will leave subtle hints to their triggers as it discovers each and every one. But... I'm not sure about its plans."

"We just have to hope," I mused, writing down everything he had just told me onto my datapad. "In the meantime, it's probably best that we wait a couple of days, but this won't work if the Gravemind has complete control, so its got to allow the alters to have awareness of each other."

Red chuckled slightly. "It finds the idea of a bunch of crazy alters going at each other amusing."

I sighed, rolling my eyes at the alien. "Like the Romans found amusement in slaves killing each other, aliens find amusement in anguish," I sighed as I finished the sessions report and filed it on to the Captain since Red gave me permission to share our sessions' details with his sister earlier. "I can't deal with the alienanity that is space. After we get back to _Earth _and I survive Parangosky's wraith -if I survive-, I'm never leaving _Earth _again."

Red smile. "Yet, _Earth _is where the Romans came from."

I frowned at his words, slightly amused at him being a smartass. "I know that!" I harshly told him, using a playful tone so he knew that I was joking. "I used to love the Romans as a kid!"

Red grinned, replying with, "I prefer Greeks myself."

Rolling my eyes, I got up off of my seat, leaving my datapad sitting on it, and waved Adam over. "Adam, could you please remove Red's handcuffs-"

"No need," Red said as he got up out of his seat and snapped his arms apart, shattering the hand cuffs apart and sending metal shards flying all over the floor. "Perks of being a baddass, alien killing, genetically engineered super soldier that would likely give nerds and geeks alike boners."

Red then left my office, leaving me and Franti alone in the mess he made. Scoffing in disbelief, I turned around to face Adam who did the same. While I wore a face of disbelief, he just wore a face that said "What the fuck are you looking at?". We both turned our attention back to the mess in unison where I let out a sigh and Adam said, "That's CATFU."

"I don't care what it is," I said in an annoyed tone. "you're cleaning it up."

Adam scoffed as he calmly left my officer as well, assault rifle in hand. It was just me and a big damn mess that I had to clean up. I could get the Engineer to come clean up the mess, but the alien would probably just put the handcuffs back together over cleaning it up. Or, I could get one of the Marines up here, but risk annoying them on a day as special as this for them.

The Jarheads didn't like people messing with their customs.

Smiling as an idea came to my head, I summoned Timmy. "Timmy." Timmy's avatar appeared on his holotank near the door to my office.

"Yes, doctor?"

"Get two Marine to escort Ensign Alex Giles up here, please, tell them we have a mess suited for his abilities."

I thought I saw Timmy's avatar smile as he replied. "Orders sent. The Captain will probably like you more now because of this."

Moving my datapad onto a nearby table, I went back to my comfortable seat and practically fell back into it. "I women like her isn't someone you want as your enemy, so, no complaints here."

From what I experienced, the Captain was dangerous, but she was forgiving to _Human _enemies -her actions with blowing up the Covenant fleet said otherwise to her being forgiving to the Diverted. But from what I had experienced, Red may had been forgiving, but not after he made a promise to go after someone. Rhine Dorhan was a strong -but hard- example of this.

I almost felt bad for Parangosky and this doctor Halsey since it was fairly obvious that Red was planning on going after them.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Well, this was pretty long for a chapter I consider fuller. Albeit, I don't think it's _really _fuller since it's progressing the plot, but it does divert from the main story, but it helps develop the numerous OCs.

Also, funny story. Originally, when I was planning this story, I didn't have Red at all, but planned on using a current SPARTAN-II instead. That SPARTAN-II was going to be Randall-037, but the timeline proved inconsistent with me since he went missing in 2532, and I wanted the story to be heavily based around the beginning of the Great Schism. Thank God I never decided to use him because he freaking appears in Halo Nightfall, and the background to his MIA status would've killed me if I made him my main character here. I dodged a bullet there. Just hope 343i don't decide to introduce another SPARTAN-II with the "098" tag.


	40. A Point of Breaking

**(Red Jsarez)**

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[1805 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Mess-Hall, Slip-Space]**

* * *

><p>Once I arrived at the mess-hall, I saw that the rumors of Nai taking the lead off the rules and regulations <em>was<em> true, and that the Marines _hadn't _wasted any time in taking advantage of their new-found freedom.

The mess-hall had changed a lot over the hours the Marines were getting ready for the the night's event. The Marines had shifted the tables and benches around the mess to make more space for dancing, and bought out portable field tables that they set up and put food on. There was also music playing lightly through the mess-hall's intercom speakers which must had meant that Timmy reprogrammed them -a major breach of regs; one that wasn't a problem for anyone.

In the middle of the space that was made by moving the tables and benches, there was a large ladder that Jeff Woods had climbed up to hang a disco ball from roof. The ladder was being supported by Tom McAllister -who was wearing an excited face, eager for the upcoming events.

So far, things were quiet, with Marines not being drunk enough to demand Timmy to play rock music at full blast. I was also surprised to see that _no _Marine wanted to miss out on this. Tom Harvad managed to climb out of the medical bay, and was seated next to the remaining members of his Fireteam at a table.

White was also attending, seated in a wheelchair off the edge of the large "Dance space" with a bandage wrapped tightly around his throat, and a doctor by his side. By looking at his face, I saw how much pain he was in. But, Marines were stubborn, and White was no exception; he wouldn't miss the party, no matter what. Even Fireteam Night -who I didn't think would attend after the revelation of their past- were attending.

The only Marines that weren't at the party were Brian Davis, Lex Tyre -who was still in a coma, courtesy of me- Edmund Howartz -who was still too shell-shocked to even move by himself- and Fireteam Location and Hazard who were still being detained over trust issues Nai had with them; ones that were well justified.

I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder, and I peered over my shoulder to see Lynda standing behind me, smiling. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd show up." She said.

I turned right around so I could speak to her face -a common social courtesy. "How did I give you an impression like that?" I asked her, letting my tone shift to one that was friendly. Knowing Lynda -or partially knowing her, in my case- if you didn't make sure you used an acceptable tone when speaking to her, she would speak up against it; both military regulations, and her own stubbornness caused this.

She crossed her arms and began to explain. "It was more or less just a guess. But, I did think that Hauver going on about all the upcoming fuck-fests would turn you away."

I grinned, hoping to God that she was joking. "Last time I checked, you guys are Marines -not horny college students."

Lynda's smile grew bigger. "Yeah, we're Marines... Marines who can put those college students to shame," My heart dropped. "A lot of the boys and gals on this tub have lost their wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, have none, or just don't give a damn," Her smile grew as I let out a sigh. "And since shore-leave's not at a good ratio, my ground-pounders look for any excuse to shift their pounding focus," She frowned in confusion. "The Gravemind not tell you this?" _(And in acting so, developed an obstinate status quo.)_

I grunted, angry at the Gravemind's sense of humor. "So, what, am I unable to enjoy this party without young, drunk men and women playing strip-poker?"

Lynda shrugged. "Courtney anticipated this. Heck, she _wanted _this. What best way to get your crew on your side then letting them loose? Don't worry, she knows what she's doing."

"Oh?" I urged her on, hoping that she did. My sister did prove that she was an excellent planner, but, I still had my doubts.

"Doubt me, do you?" Lynda asked in a playful manner, grinning. "Well, Sierra, your sister's a smart women. If you're gonna let your dogs off the lease, make sure they know where to shit. So, she made some rules: If you want to screw someone, go somewhere private -the barracks, a storage room; anywhere, but the mess, basically."

I let out a sigh, not believing that a bunch of drunk Marines would follow through with rules. "Uh uh. And how many of the Marines are going to follow these rules?" I asked her, the knowing of the obvious answer in my voice.

"None," She shrugged. "First group will be told off. But, knowing _these_ Marines, once one starts, they'll start -then, there's no stopping them."

I let out an amused scoff. "I think I'll just go hang out with the Hybrids or something-"

"You can't do that," Lynda quickly interjected, her grin getting wider. "Everyone's seen you. You won't garner much respect from leaving a Marine party early."

I grunted, annoyed at the damn logic of Marines that had the indecency to screw me over. "Okay," I glanced around before turning my attention back to her. "Just, please, try your best to keep things under control."

Lynda chuckled, her grin hitting its peak. "Doubt that'll be possible, Red -_I'm_ planning on being the one that starts it." She started laughing as she walked off, leaving me behind to frown at her as she walked off. It looked like I would be trapped, and being a SPARTAN, I didn't like being trapped. But, I never wanted to be a SPARTAN, nor wanted to remain one, so, I concluded that it wouldn't _really _matter. What did matter was where I what I was trapped in.

I dwelt on why I couldn't handle the idea of sex. It was not uncommon for someone to become uncomfortable about talking about sex around others. But actually being in the middle of an orgy with the Marines that a person came to respect would be a bigger blow. But, it was more hitting home. I just couldn't handle the idea of sex; no matter where I was, or when.

I knew why I didn't like sex. I could have it, yes, but it wouldn't be for anything other than pleasure. My augmentations prevented me from reproducing; prevented basically every SPARTAN from reproducing. If there was the slightest chance of me returning to society, what would be the point? I couldn't start a family. I could adopt an orphan of the war -but... that wasn't really the point of my thinking. I didn't even like the idea of having a child, and at the moment, I never cared to have one.

The whole point _was_ that someone took that freedom away; narrowed my options to nearly nothing. Even if I had the freedom, I probably wouldn't use it -but, it being there would be enough to make me feel _more _Human..

Realizing I was standing in the walkway of the entrance to the mess, I quickly moved off to the side, taking in that more and more people were entering the mess-hall which in turn was making it louder. One person who entered as I moved out-of-the-way was Will Gonzalez. Upon entering, Will went straight over to a nearby mini-fridge and got out a can of beer. He didn't even notice me as I came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him spin around to see me and let out a breath of relief.

"Hey, Sierra. Didn't see you there." He chuckled nervously, placing his hand over where his heart was. I could even hear his speeding heart beats. After seeing Amber's body, I got the feeling that he may had gotten Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; he was definitely jumpy enough.

"I know," I replied with a friendly expression appearing on my face. "that's why I took the chance," I studied his face and saw that he was quite freaked out by me jumping up on him, and I began to feel _really _bad for doing so. "but..." I lowered my head, annoyed at myself. "I suppose that wasn't very smart of me."

Will quickly shook his head dismissively. "No, it's fine, you just... took me by surprise, that's all. Nothing to be concerned over."

I wasn't falling for his brush-offs, so I _carefully_ persisted. "I don't know if it _is _fine, Lieutenant. You saw what I saw? You saw Amber?" Will nodded, and remained quiet so I could continue. "Then what I did was beyond stupid; I, of all people, should know this."

Will nodded, redirecting his gaze to the ground, musing for a few seconds before raising his head to look at me again. "You're right. But..." He rubbed his eyes before continuing. "I can't help but feel you're overdoing your concerns."

I shrugged. "Yeah. Still, won't be doing something like that again," I looked over to a table that Rick Cylus, Toless Morgan, and Theodore Douglas were seated at, and decided against my better judgement to join them. First, I turned my attention back to Will. "I don't suppose you'll be up for joining me at Night's table."

Will immediately shook his head. "Not after Roras-"

"Not all of Night are bad," I sternly cut in to reassure him. "Rick, Toless, they're good people; no matter their past or what side they chose during the mutiny," I turned around to look at the table Fireteam Night were seated at, adding, "And I can assure you that not _any _of them liked Roras with the exception being Adam, but there's more to it."

I heard Will let out a sigh behind me, and I turned back around to face him again. "Okay," He nodded. "I'll come with you. I owe you, anyway... to watch your back, I mean." I did a slight nod of appreciation before turning around and made my way over to Night's table with him following close behind me.

"Hey, Sierra." Rick greeted me, gesturing to take a seat next to him. I took the seat he offered, and Will sat next to me, placing his beer can onto the table, keeping a wary eye on the others.

"Petty Officer." Toless nodded in respect from where he was seated opposite of me after I took my seat, noticing that Will was wary of him, but not _physically _showing it.

"Guess we must smell good," Rick chuckled, adding, "Why else would you boys be here with a bunch of dirty greenhorns like us?"

Will didn't say anything, despite his mind trying to make him do so. He was patient; that much was certain about him, and he was also quiet. This ship seemed to be full of people who were quiet, and I found it disturbing that so many soldiers had gone through something so traumatic as to shift their personality to one that could give a SPARTAN a run for heir money..

"Despite being dirty and smelly," I began to reply, folding my arms across the table we're seated at. "you make good company."

Toless scoffed at that. "I don't mean to be rude, Sierra, but I doubt that," I took a keen interest in what he was saying as he continued. "We only sat down together one other time than now, and that was just hours before you left for that mission to the Library, and we didn't even speak to each other; not really, anyway. Any other time we were hiding for obvious reasons. _This_ is the first time we've shown our faces."

I began rubbing my jaw. "And why did you decide to show yourself?" I questioned him.

Toless leaned up straight in his seat. "I'm a Marine, so, I attend Marine custom events."

I considered his words, then quickly found fault in them. "You're not a Marine," I sternly reminded him. "Not really. You're an ONI employed convict given a false file and ID that stated you were a Marine," I looked directly into his eyes, seeing his resentment at my words in them. "But, ultimately, I can't decide whether you're a Marine, or not. That's for the others to decide."

Toless shook his head. "Yes," He sighed. "I may wear this uniform under a false pretext -but as long as I wear it, I'll honor it."

Rick let out a nervous chuckle as he playfully punched Toless' shoulder. "I suppose you didn't come here to criticize us, right, Sierra?" Rick asked in a friendly tone, trying to make light of the awkwardness.

I silently scolded myself. "Of course not. Sorry, I didn't mean for it to get out of hand just then," I apologized, turning my attention back to Toless. "Sorry."

Toless nodded. "It's okay. I understand where you're coming from, Sierra, but, it still hurts me... to have it shoved back in my face like that." Toless sternly told me. Starting to feel bad, I lowered my eyes so he couldn't see the remorse I had in them. What the hell came over me to speak out like that?

The sound of Theodore snickering bought my attention back, and I raised my eyes to look and see what Theodore was looking at, following his gaze until it reached a Marine sitting by himself at a table, basically sucking on the leg of a chicken.

"Do they put a lot of flavor in the skin?" I asked, confused to why the Marine was acting so unusual with his food.

Rick shrugged. "Not really much flavor with breadcrumbs and all. Daniels over there just loves sucking cock."

Theodore snickered again with Will letting out an amused scoff. Both me and Toless, however, remained silent. "Roosters aren't slaughtered for meat, idiot." Toless finally said, shaking his head, annoyed.

Rick narrowed his eyes before turning his attention from the Marine sucking on the chicken leg back to us. "Great, fucking lol fail." He angrily muttered.

"It had potential," I reassured him. "you just need to get the facts right or risk the joke being on _you_."

Theodore turned his attention back to us as well, frowning in confusion before taking a sip from his beer can. "So what?" He asked after he put his beer can back down. "They have thousands of roosters fucking hens?"

I glanced over to Toless who shook his head, seemingly uncomfortable, before turning back to face Theodore. "No. Breeders use a thing called 'Chicken culling' to control the population."

"What's that?" Theodore asked, followed by Rick laughing out loud that we would have to explain.

I sighed as I began. "It's putting male chicks into a grinder -alive." I explained to have his jaw drop in disbelief.

"They sometimes break their necks if they ain't feeling sadistic." Toless added, amused.

Theodore shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, like that would get sanction-"

"They're fucking chickens, Theo," Toless interrupted him. "It's the kitten culling people are bothered about."

"What." Theodore asked, voice cold and devoid of any emotion other than disbelief.

Toless shrugged. "Chinese colonists have weird food choices."

"Please tell me you're joking." Theodore face-palmed in disbelief.

"It sounds like it could be a joke, but it ain't," Toless turned and patted Theodore -who was seated next to him- on the back. "Sorry, did your faith in Humanity just go down the toilet?"

"Or into the grinder?" Rick jokingly added.

"Fuck you guys." Theodore grunted in anger. Rick let out a laugh, and, curious, I turned around to see that Will was also shocked. Just as I was about to comfort him -or make another joke, depending on what I ultimately decided- Albert Freud came out of nowhere and placed a few bowls of snacks onto the table we were seated at before taking a seat himself next to Will. Tom also came up behind me, and took a seat as well, on the opposite side of Toless, placing two cartons of beer onto the table.

"Sorry to intrude," Tom apologized. "but it seemed like you guys are having fun."

"'Fun'?" Theodore scoffed, still having his head in his hands. "No. All that's happening here is an unwanted lesson on Humanity."

"What about-" Tom noticed Will shaking his head, and immediately stopped in his tracks and dropped it.

Finally noticing something that was odd, I decided to raise its attention. "Where's Franti?"

"Adam?" Toless asked, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Parties ain't his domain. He won't be attending."

I nodded in acknowledgement after which the Gravemind showed me a visual on what Adam was doing. He was simply roaming the ship's corridors. I was worried since he had a bad case of depression- _(Be as alleviate. This one intends not to culminate his actuality.) _Trusting the Gravemind's words for some reason I didn't know, I ceased my agitation, and relaxed. Things, however, got wild again as Rick jokingly removed his cybernetic eye and scared a female member of the crew that was passing our table, making her smack him across the face and drawing laughs from almost all of us except Freud who just watched it unfold indifferently.

"She may have hit me," Rick remarked as he rubbed his red face. "but she'll be getting hit by _me _at the end of the night."

Tom chuckled slightly, but everyone else remained silent as Rick plugged his cybernetic eye back into his socket. "How'd you get that?" I asked out of nowhere.

"What? My cyber-eye?" He asked, pointing to his eye. "Well, it's actually a funny story. You see, I was blowing Theodore because he got me drunk-"

"HEY!" Theodore exclaimed.

Rick continued, ignoring Theodore's protests. "-one night, and while he was slapping my face with that sharp dick of his, he poked my eye out."

Theodore growled as he face-palmed again while Rick continued laughing with even Tom letting out an amused scoff as well. "Bad boxing match with an Elite Ultra," Toless corrected Rick. "He lost his eye, got that nasty scar across his jaw, and got an energy blade shoved through his left hand."

So, that was the reason behind the black finger-less glove he wore. I never put much attention towards it, so the Gravemind never told me. It must had been a bad fight.

"What happened to the Ultra?" Will asked.

"I had to run in and save his ass," Toless began explaining. "Unfortunately, though I managed to disarm the bastard, it smashed its fist into my face, permanently crooking my nose," He pointed to his nose, and the explanation to that part of his physical form was completed. I always knew it was an Elite, but the story behind it was so much more interesting than my theories. "In the end," Toless folded his hands. "It was Adam who saved _both _our asses."

"As usual." Theodore muttered.

"He's saved _your_ ass plenty of times." Toless jokingly reminded Theodore.

"Yeah, but it was my _own _ass," Theodore clarified. "Whenever you two idiots need help, it's always the other that needs help, too. Name one instant that Adam didn't have to save _both _your asses."

"There was that time with the execution and all," Rick began, and I immediately figured this was going to be a joke. "Last time I checked, it was ONI -not Adam- who saved our asses... and condemned us to... _this._"

Seeing a large amount of disturbance in Rick's eyes, I raised a question I probably shouldn't have raised. "Do you hate him?"

Rick turned his attention to me, slightly tilting his head, confused. "Hate who?"

"Adam," I clarified. "How he kept that stuff about your conviction from you until the last moment."

Rick shrugged. "I'm pissed, yes. But I'm also thankful. The anger I took out on Dorhan was perfect, and the timing couldn't had been better. Adam's always looked out for me- for us," He gestured to Theodore and Toless. "So, it's impossible that he did this for himself. He probably just... couldn't tell me. Believe it or not, Adam's a soft guy underneath it all. He's reached that state where he doesn't care about living or dying anymore, and only goes on to protect his buddies; to protect us."

"That's natural for a broken soldier," Tom remarked. "I've felt like that before -but then, I just remember my girlfriend and little girl back home."

"Most of us don't have anything to go back to." Rick sighed, taking a sip of his beer.

"What about your family?" Will asked him.

Rick shrugged as he put his beer can back onto the table. "Part of our deal with ONI was to have new IDs, so I can't ever see my family again because as far as they know, I was executed."

"I'm sorry," Will apologized, real remorse in his tone. "That's got to be hard to accept."

Rick grinned as he picked his can up again. "I don't plan on accepting it. Remember, Captain baddass plans on making up an imaginary dick and screwing ONI with it. I'm just hoping that the screwing makes those assholes submit."

Speaking about Nai drew my attention to her. She was speaking with a Navy crewman near where all the food tables were, not even taking notice of me. This was good; she didn't go out of her way to watch me. She had enough trust to just let me be rather then watch me in fear of my DID.

"It's ONI's stubbornness that has prevented our extinction." Toless remarked.

I chuckled as an idea for a reply entered my head. "My sister could -and will- teach ONI a thing or two about being stubborn."

"You put a lot of faith into your sister." Tom observed.

I shrugged, taking a handful of chips and shuffling them down before replying. "It's a trend; I put a lot of faith in just about everyone who appeases my 'Faith senses'"

"Do you have faith in me?" Rick asked, cocking his eyebrows suggestively.

"No." I bluntly replied, making Rick stop cocking his eyes and jokingly change his expression to a sad one.

"Faith's a big thing," Toless stated. "I wouldn't put it in idiots like you." He punched Rick's shoulder.

I nodded to confirm his words. "I put it in people who_ I know_ will change things for the better."

"Who do you have the most faith in?" Freud suddenly asked, breaking his chain of being silent.

"A SPARTAN... he's pretty much the leader of all the SPARTANs. He's a baddass-"

"Oh? How so?" Rick urged me on, smiling as he took a gulp from his beer.

"He's a tactical mastermind. In 2523, we were matched against a tough as nails Marine Company, and with this SPARTAN's leadership, we won each time."

"At twelve?" Will questioned me, surprise and confusion in his tone.

"Yep. Even when the Marines started breaking the rules and began using live rounds, we _still_ managed to beat them again, and again, and again. But that was just training."

"Oh, here we go." Rick said, leaning forward, eager to hear the tale.

"A couple years back, _Draco III _was invaded by the Covenant."

"Yeah, I remember that." Rick remarked.

I continued. "All UNSC forces on the planet were effectively eliminated, and every civilian that survived the initial onslaught was gathered up and massacred by Jackals and Grunts. Unfortunately for them, we were watching via a satellite uplink at the time; planning how we would go about the mission to rescue the civvies. We were -of course- shocked when we saw what happened, and our priorities changed,"

I took a small biscuit from one of the bowls and ate it before continuing. "Deciding that we wanted to go all out, our leader -John-117- asked if we could go in with a few dozen Scorpions, and CENTCOM agreed almost immediately."

"Good old CENTCOM." Rick did an amused scoff.

"...117?" I heard Freud silently muse.

I continued, ignoring what Freud was musing about. "Of course, after we started massacring the ground forces, the remaining forces decided to get the hell out of dodge, and started evacuating to their ships that were in close orbit nearby,"

I leaned forward, eager to tell the tale that was so vivid in my mind. "Now, John was pissed, so, he wasn't letting any Covie leave the planet alive or let any ship escape," I smiled as I continued. "To accomplish his goal, he used the gravity lift of the remaining cruiser to move his Scorpion _into _the ship before blowing it apart from the inside while me and the rest of the SPARTANs watched from the outside, wondering how the hell he was doing it."

"How did he escape?" Tom asked.

I smiled as I answered. "He jumped out of the ship by a hole in the hanger's hull -one he caused- and took the body of a Brute ranger with him to control his falling."

Rick scoffed. "I'm having a hard time believing this."

"I'll have Timmy show you the reports," I offered. "Seeing _is_ believing."

Rick shrugged. "Nah. I think I'll believe you."

"Sounds like a character from a digital game." Will observed.

"No," I shook my head, taking another biscuit and eating it before adding, "He's real."

"Is it wrong of me to be somewhat thankful that there are SPARTANS?" Tom asked nervously. "There's their origins and all-"

"You're not doing anything wrong by thinking that," I reassured him. "Believe it or not, I'm thankful to be where I am today. I don't think my sister is, though."

"What happened to you was wrong," Toless concluded. "But if it didn't happen, we would all be dead. Doesn't help this Halsey woman that you guys were meant to fight Innies."

I nodded, reminiscent on my past just as I noticed someone approaching our table.

* * *

><p><strong>(Courtney Jsarez)<strong>

* * *

><p>Stopping in front of the table, I witnessed all of their eyes on me. Flashing a friendly face, I turned to address Red. "Sorry to interrupt, but can I borrow my brother for a moment."<p>

They all nodded, and nudged Red out of his seat. After brushing them off and getting up, Red approached me, confusion on his face when I waved for him to follow me, and led him out of earshot.

"Still not so trusting of the Marines?" He asked as we came to a stop just out of earshot from anyone.

I turned around to face him directly. "No. This is just a case of keeping moral."

He narrowed his eyes and began rubbing his chin. "Has something happened?"

I shook my head. "No. Just... a situation that needs to be tended to-" I looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. "-tomorrow."

"And it can't wait till tomorrow?" He questioned.

I crossed my arms, wearing a mock scowl. "I'm sorry, did I disturb you and your little friends talk _that_ bad?"

He grinned slightly. "Okay, what's the 'situation'?" He asked me.

"It's Hitler 2547 that's in your head," He let out a suppressed chuckle in appreciation of my term as I continued. "For some reason, the damn thing still has its telepathic abilities, right?" He nodded. "A suppose Joyce talked to you about this?"

He nodded again. "He bought it up, but I didn't say much. The Gravemind... its secretive about this stuff for some reason."

I nodded, eyeing a Marine that walked past us before turning my attention back to Red. "That reason needs to be bought to light. Tomorrow, I'll be talking to the Monarch and Monitor -as well as the Hybrids- about this; see what they know."

"You want me to tag along." He concluded.

"Yes." I nodded, adding, "I don't know how it'll help, but if there's the slightest chance that it will in any way, then, I'm taking that chance."

_(Comprehend this-) _The Gravemind showed me a few visions of things that were currently happening. It was giving me a hint, and it didn't take me long to realize what it was. Red got the visions too, and took a step towards me. "Did you see that?" He asked, worry in his voice.

"Yep," I nodded. "The Gravemind can only see things happening _on _the ship. Maybe it's Slip-Space?" I theorized. "Perhaps -and this is just a theory- Slip-Space tampers with the artifact -which is odd since it's a Precursor artifact."

"Maybe the Precursor's wanted the limit." Red suggested, tilting his head upwards as he mused.

I began rubbing my chin. "Maybe... _Or, _it could be something else," A theory came to my head, and I instantly became fearful of its integrity. Shaking my head to dismiss it -for now- and faced Red. "Doesn't matter now. Just meet me at my quarters at 0900 hours tomorrow. We'll go to the meeting from there. We'll also talk to the robots about this figure."

He nodded. "I'll meet you then." He then turned around and headed back to the table that the other Marines he had befriended were at.

Feeling like there was nothing I could do, I looked around to find someone I could talk to, and quickly found a target. Although he couldn't talk _properly, _that wouldn't stop him. Built into Dean White's wheelchair was a keyboard he could type with, and a device which would project what he typed into verbal words. It was mainly used for verbally disabled people, but it would help with Dean until his throat healed.

Damn, he was a tough fucker.

Approaching him, he quickly noticed me, and instead of turning his head to face me, he turned his wheelchair around -which was much safer. The doctor turned with him, being close to his side in case he needed anything.

"You're one tough son of a bitch," I remarked as I pulled out a nearby chair, dragged it next to him and sat down. "Seems like Karma had it against you."

I waited while White typed down his reply. "She's a bitch." A synthetic voice replied.

"You have _no _idea," I sighed, leaning back in the seat I was in. "doesn't look like you care, though."

"Tonight's important for me," He replied after a few seconds of typing down what he wanted to say. "It's important for everyone. It's not just celebrating an anniversary, but the imminent end of the war. An asshole Elite won't stop me from jumping in and enjoying myself."

I grinned as his enthusiasm before grinning at the thought that came into my head. "I think you _actually _just couldn't wait to see me again."

Dean chuckled a bit, but quickly stopped, letting out a pained grunt, and making me regret my joke. "Oh, ma'am, please, don't make me laugh." The synthetic voice said after he typed it through the keyboard on his wheelchair.

"Sorry, sorry," I panicked. "that was fucking stupid of me."

He smiled as he began typing again. "It's fine, ma'am, really," He looked around before typing something else in. "And while seeing your face is always a blessing," I chuckled a bit as he continued. "I'm here for more personal reasons. I'm reminding myself that I'm a Marine -not a monster."

_Harvest... _He was referring to _Harvest _when he had to eat the dead bodies of his comrade. When I first heard it, I was rather shocked, but, I managed to respect him for it. He did what was needed to be done at the time, and he accepted what he did.

"No one thinks you're a monster." I reassured him.

He shrugged, grunting in pain as he did. "I wish that were true, ma'am," The synthetic voice replied. "but not everyone sees it as you and the Colonel do."

"You _saved _thousands of lives by just _staying _alive," I sternly, but calmly, reminded him, placing my hand on his which caught the full attention of his eyes. "If they were in your place, and knew that _thousands_ would die _if_ they didn't do what needed to be done, what would they do? It's a stupid scenario with too many 'what-ifs', but they can't understand what went through your head when you did it."

Dean's eyes lingered on the ground as he began considering my words carefully. "Do you regret what you did?" I asked him.

"No," The synthetic voice replied after he typed the answer in. "I regret having to do it."

"You regret this war," I concluded. "Everyone does," I turned my gaze to looking into the void -to looking at nothing. "Even the damn Diverted regret the war _they _started."

"This isn't a time to bring them up," The synthetic voice told me. "Forget about them; enjoy yourself."

"Can't," I replied, leaning forward in my chair, musing on whether I should remove my right hand from holding Dean's left. I just wanted to reassure him -since he was in a bad spot- but I didn't want to give him the wrong impressions. But adding to my reply, I only made it more difficult. "I was actually looking forward to dancing with you."

Dean managed to swallow a chuckle before typing in a reply. "Really?" He asked. "Dancing with an old trooper like me?"

I smiled, placing my other hand over my right one that was holding his, eyeing the doctor who took the message, and silently walked off a bit out of earshot -Dean had an emergency button if he needed to use it -which he wouldn't. "Lynda tells me you're a good dancer." I explained.

White lowered his eyes from looking at me; I could see nervousness shrouding his face. "Not really. I attended dancing classes in school, soshe's probably only taking what was on my file."

"You became a Marine instead of a dancer?" I questioned in a mock sense of disbelief.

Dean turned his gaze back to me, grinning. "You forgot another detail from my file, ma'am. I was a rebel back then, and I only went to the dancing classes because my teacher's aid ordered me to."

I felt really bad that I forgot _yet another _small detail from his file. It was too tough being in charge of a couple hundred people, a ship, and an AI. I liked things simple, but I always pushed through it, hopeful that I would find my brother as a reward. "Sorry I forgot."

He began typing in his reply. "I _can _still walk." He reminded me. "So, still want that dance?"

I grinned as I shook my head. "Nah. I don't like bad-boys."

Dean had to swallow another chuckle, making me feel stupid. After he managed to swallow the chuckle, and grunt in a small amount of pain, he began typing onto his keyboard again. "Sorry."

"For what?" I questioned him, my tone getting serious and concerned; something wasn't right.

He began typing his reply, but stopped a moment while he considered the words. It was about a minute before he continued typing. "I've been rather-" He quickly tapped a button on the keyboard, ending the synthetic voice. He then immediately typed something else instead.

Before he could finish typing in what he wanted the synthetic voice to say, he was cut off by the sound of glass breaking, and I snapped my head around to see that some glass cups had been knocked off a table... by Lynda. She had pushed everything off a portable table, and was trying to push Tyler Hauver onto it. "What the fuck?!" I asked aloud, then realized that she was probably drunk off her ass.

"Ma'am," Tyler tried to calmly push Lynda off of him as she tried to pull his shirt of. I wasted no time in leaping out of my seat near Dean and rushing over to stop her. "You're not yourself-"

"Shut up!" Lynda slurred, unzipping her fatigues. "You want it, right? You always go on 'bout how you can get women with no trouble. So, take it!."

"Ma'am," Hauver protested, trying to stop Lynda from pulling her fatigues down. "You're drunk -please, just, settle down."

"Lynda!" I pulled her off, quickly trying to do up her fatigues zippers as a crowd formed around us. But before I could do anything, she aggressively pushed me away, hissing at me as I was grabbed by a nearby Marine and helped back up before I hit the ground.

"Fuck off!" She angrily slurred. "You can't stop me this time... my husband's dead, so, no adultery, right?! You can't stop me like last time!" She growled, turning back to Tyler who was making a failed attempt to try to escape. "Come on back over here, you pussy!"

"Shit," Hauver muttered under his breath. "Ma'am, please," He looked to me, asking for help with his eyes as Lynda bought her hand down to his fatigue's fly. "I can't get raped by a women!" He tried to gently push her back as I rushed over again.

"Lynda, please!" I persisted, grabbing a hold of her.

"No!" She pushed me away, again -but I remained on my feet this time. "You can't stop me. My husband's dead! _He's dead!_" Tears began to appear in her eyes -she was about to break down. "My husband, my two kids... my little boy and gal... they're all dead!" She fell onto the ground and began crying. "I _didn't_ even tell them I _loved_ them before leaving... I... I was in a fucking rush!... Fuck the Corps! FUCK THE FUCKING MARINES!" Needing to get her out of here, I carefully picked her up, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, and carrying the exhausted Lynda from the mess.

She didn't resist any further, and only cried. I knew this was going to happen sometime, but I didn't think it would be so soon. I didn't even consider that the party would set her off; I was beyond mad at myself. She had humiliated herself, and broken down in front of the entire crew. Moral was surely going to diminish after this.

"Why did they have to die?" Lynda asked as she cried. I didn't think she was talking to me, but just talking out loud in general. This was scary for me as I had never seen Lynda like this before, and I was beyond worried for her. "They never did anything wrong... they didn't deserve it!... FUCK!"

"The fleet that attacked _Atmosus _is dead." I calmly reminded her, thinking back onto the fleet I ordered destroyed against 'Lodam's wishes. I thought on what I was planning on doing. The past couple of days changed me, and I often became aggressive towards 'Lodam. While I didn't regret destroying the fleet earlier -as it was a strategic move- I did regret saying what I did to 'Lodam. It was cruel of me, and to avoid being more cruel, I ordered Timmy to delete the recording of him destroying the officer's lounge. I thought that the mood swings were part of Red's connection with me, and that the emotions were his -but then, I remembered that coincidentally, this was _my _time of the month. I sometimes hated being a women, and the negative perks liked to pick the most fucked up times to appear.

I smiled as I wondered how Red was feeling about _it_ each time I had to tend to _it._

"I didn't even get to say goodbye to them." Lynda cried right before she tumbled out of my arms and fell to the floor where she vomited up what she drank. I hid the disgust on my face as I knelt down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she continue puking her guts out. Luckily, her gut held out long enough for me to get her close to her quarters, so, she wouldn't be covered in vomit for long, and the chances of a crew-member coming across us was low.

"I made a mess of things!" She cried, coughing because she was talking with a mouthful of vomit. "Fucking Corps! Joining was a fucking mistake!" Sadness swept through me when I realized that I was the reason she joined the Corps. Before I came along, she was living happily with her family on _Earth... _Her family only moved to _Atmosus _to be close to where she was deployed. I wasn't all into "What-ifs," but I knew that her life would be a lot better had she never met me. Sure, she may had screwed that Marine and been divorced, but at least her children would still be alive, at least she wouldn't be missing such a big part of her life.

Tearing up, I couldn't help but express my regret over what happened. "I'm sorry," I tearfully said. "This is all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Lynda slurred, sniffing as her crying resided. "You didn't make me join the Corps."

The tears began coming more and more. I hoped to God that anything she said _now _would be regretted tomorrow. I hoped to God that when she said she hated me, she took it back tomorrow. "Yes, but _I _gave you the idea." I tearfully reminded her.

"Bitch, what're you talking about?" She questioned me, leaning up from the floor she was lying over, and wiping vomit from her face. "I was planning on joining the fucking Corps months before you came along."

I screwed my eyes shut when a painful amount of relief washed over me. She was too drunk to only be saying what she said to reassure me, and she was too smart to get her facts wrong. It wasn't my fault; I didn't get the family of my best friend killed.

"I thought..." I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was the reason..." I opened my eyes up as the tension in my body died down, and dropped my gaze to Lynda who had suddenly crashed into a deep sleep.

"Great," I grumbled to myself. "Now I'm going to have to carry you to bed."

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline.**

**[DATE]****-****[November 10, 2547]**

**[TIME]****-****[2037 Hours - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[****_Charon_****-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite's _****Officer Lounge, Slip-Space]**

* * *

><p>"At least he didn't take it out on the Humans." Was what came to my mind when I first stepped hoof into this "Officer's Lounge".<p>

This rage of Thel's was not unexpected. Many other Sangheili of the Diverted had expressed their rage at the Humans actions; some even acting similar to Thel in which they destroyed Human property.

I prided myself in remaining composed at all times, so, when the news reached me, I stayed stoic when others broke down in rage. I was not without my emotions being there; I _was _upset at the Human's revenge tactics, but I understood.

Hearing the clattering of hoofs treading the hard ground of this room, I turned, expecting to see Thel or Anve, only to see Skae 'Kuzomee instead. No, not Skae, his apparition; his... "Ghost". Why I saw it was beyond my comprehension. Was it haunting me out of vengeance? Why would Skae think that way? After learning the truth behind Halo and the Great Journey, I chose to give up believing "Supernatural" to be the answer to such questions. _This... _was my mind.

"Why do you haunt me, brother?" I asked the apparition to no avail. I persisted, though. "What are your intentions? Do you require something of me?"

The apparition didn't reply, and calmly walked past me. I followed it with my eyes, and saw it stop near one of the ruined Human seats, and turn to face me. It crossed its arms, and looked at me directly, not saying a word. "Skae?" I took a step towards it. "If it _is _you, please, speak to me if you can, or show me a sigh that it _is_ you. I understand not what you desire of me."

Again, the apparition didn't move, and I was growing frustrated. "You see the dead as well?" I snapped around to the Human voice to see a large Human standing in the large doorway of the room, armor-less.

I cocked my head, curious at his words. "Yes. Do you as well?" I asked.

The Human nodded, entering the room fully. "Don't take it seriously," He told me as he approached one of the wrecked Human seats and kicked it in annoyance. "...it's all in your head."

I took a step forward, intrigued. "So, I am not being haunted?" I asked him, curious and hopeful that my query was proven to be true.

The Human turned his attention back from the seat to me and shook his head. "I take it your race doesn't really marvel in science?" He asked me with a smirk, adding. "Our scientists have proven that most of this stuff is psychological," The Human went over to a nearby wall and leaned against it. "You probably have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; a mental disorder that occurs after you witness something _very _fucked up."

I rubbed my lower two mandibles. "I saw a comrade -not close to me- be mercilessly murdered, violently. It's left a lasting impact on me. Could this be the answer I seek?" I asked him as I began pacing around the room.

He nodded. "Yeah, probably; I don't see what else it could be."

I continued pacing, thinking on the Human's words. "Is there a way to end this?" I instantly regretted asking so. I wanted to be haunted by Skae as a punishment for my foolishness of not being prepared for the Prophet of Pity's wraith.

"Depends. I don't suppose you guys do therapy?" He asked, crossing his arms.

I ceased my pacing and turned all my attention to the Human. "No. Those with mind problems are judged weak, and abandoned."

The Human shrugged. "Sucks to be you." The Human turned his attention to the mess of glass and broken bottles, and went to over to the mess to rummage through them.

"Who do you see?" I asked the Human.

The Human stopped what he was doing and let out a sigh. "My family. They were killed when the Covenant first attacked _Arcadia._"

I examined the Human's words carefully, figuring out which world he meant. It did not take me long to decipher the name into what the High Council referred to it as.

"The first invasion?" I questioned. The Human turned his head around and nodded before going back to rummaging through the glass. "That fleet was led by an Arbiter; an Elite without honor. That does not change anything, but feel satisfaction in knowing that the fleet, and that Arbiter, are dead. They were on a Forerunner shield world; attempting to gain access to a fleet of Forerunner vessels. When they never returned to _High Charity_, a scouting fleet was sent to see what had transpired to cause their absent. They never found the shield world -it was gone, destroyed; all that remained was debris."

The Human looked up from what he was doing, turning his full attention back to me. "I really don't care. I don't live for vengeance."

Intrigued, I continued. I did believe that perhaps I was treading on ground not meant for me, but this Human had so far shown me no hostility, so, I would not give up a chance to see how they perceived things. It was not out of curiosity for their species, but for strategic reasons. If I was to ever cross weapons with a Human again, I would prefer to do so knowing what is going through their minds. Knowing your enemy is one of the biggest weapons you can wield against them. "What _do _you live for?" I asked him.

The Human got up from his kneeling posture and turned around to face me. "Nothing, really... -'cept to make sure my buddies get through alright. After that... It'll be the end of the line for me; I have nothing else to live for," He narrowed his eyes at me. "You, of all people, should know what it feels like to have nothing worth living for."

I clattered my mandibles together in amusement at the Humans misconception. I took a few step forward -not enough to chance intimidating the Human- and I crossed my arms. "I have plenty to live for. My mother still lives, and I await eagerly for the moment I may sit down for a meal with her again. I plan on betraying customs, and seeking out who my real father is," I cocked my head to look into the distance as I mused on what the biggest thing to live for was. "I also need to live for my species. Once the Covenant breaks apart, my species will be in dire need of effective leaders. I can offer that," I turned my gaze back to the Human. "Don't be so dull as to think that there is nothing more for you. Your family is dead, yes -but, there is a chance for another. Even if you cannot bring yourself to craft one, be apart of one already made. Your friends, be their family."

The Human cocked his head slightly as he considered my words. As he did, I spotted an intact bottle of liquor on the ground near my hoof that the Human must had missed, and picked it up before tossing it over to the Human who masterfully caught it. "What's your name?" I asked him.

"Adam Franti," He replied, taking the lid off of the bottle before taking a long gulp from it. When he was done, he wiped the excess liquor from his mouth before turning his gaze back to me. "I was the one in charge of that huge raid that no doubt annoyed you; back on _Quaint._"

I could not help by form my mandibles into a smile. That raid had stolen a vast amount of armor and weapons from my grasp, and I learnt that the Humans on the planet that was half glassed were still as formidable as ever. The raid this Human led sent me back days at best in the progress of securing all the relics on the planet before glassing it. I respected this Human for being so open about something that I could have easily hated him for -but, instead, respected him for.

"Those on this ship live because of you," I calmly told him as he took another drink from his glass liquor bottle. "The tale of why is long, so, just believe my words."

The Human named Adam Franti shrugged. "Don't care."

I cocked my head, curious of this Human's mind. No longer was I asking questions out of strategy. Deciding that I was in no way irritating him with speaking, I went over to a nearby wall and leaned against it, twitching my lower mandibles to relieve myself of the pain from Careekius' beating that was still present. "With seeing the dead being named as a mental condition," I glanced over at the apparition of Skae before adding, "is the state of no hope also named?"

"Huh?" Adam Franti asked me, taking a sip from his liquor.

"You have no hope; no reason for living other than to keep your comrades alive," I crossed my arms, clattering my mandibles r to relieve the pain as I continued. "I know nothing of how your minds work -but I can tell, you are of a darker mind than most Humans. What is that called? If you don't mind me asking."

Adam Franti went to one of the ruined Human seats and leaned on the back-rest of it with his left arm, liquor in his right. "It's called 'Depression', and it's dangerous. Doctors say that I'm at risk of suicide -can't blame them for worrying, and I'm thinking... death may be a relief... I'll stop seeing my family... stop seeing their eyes watch me; angry at who I have become-"

"Death is endless," I calmly interjected. "If your species' families are how I theorize them to be, then you ending your life would not be what they want," The Human lowered his eyes, saddened. I nonetheless continued. "The apparitions haunt you because -yes- they don't like what you have become, but they want you to move on with your life, to forget about them."

Adam Franti scoffed. "It's their 'ghosts' that are holding me back!" He snared. "If they want me to move on, they need to fuck off! But they won't because they're not 'ghosts', they're my fucking mind!"

I lowered the bridges of my eyes in remorse over the Human's pain. They were not _Nishum, _but intelligent creatures with their own way of perceiving things. Contrary to the Prophet's lies, the Humans perceived things not so much differently from us. I hoped Thel would soon see this.

"Do you despise me, Human?" I asked him.

"Because of what happened to my family?" He asked, to which I calmly nodded in reply. "I don't have time for hate," He said, taking a sip of his liquor before adding, "I used to want to kill every Covenant soldier there is -I grew out of that, though. Hate's just an emotion I don't have the time for -at least, not for your race."

I lowered my gaze to the hard ground. "A smart ideology," I replied, not all present in mind. "It wouldn't be abnormal for me to hate myself, but I don't. Hate, is a weak emotion," I turned my gaze back to the Human. "I don't focus on the past, or on what could had been changed. 'What ifs' are irrelevant. Instead, I dwell on how I can overcome the sins I have caused to your people, and how I can somehow be at ease with my conscience."

"Nice to know that at least one of you guys regrets this damned war," Adam Franti took another long gulp from his liquor, adding, "Your buddy, Thel, ain't so considerate over your stupid mistakes."

"Sangheili are stubborn," I stated. "But it isn't a case of stubbornness with Thel," I continued, gazing out the window that covered the entire wall to my right, looking into the void. "He is not himself, mind wise -I don't even know if we can call it a mind, but a mass of emotions. Thel contradicts himself so much that he doesn't even see it."

The Human noticed the clattering of hooves on the ground as I did, and we both turned our heads in unison to see Thel march down the corridor, towards the doorway of the room I and the Human was in. "Speak of the devil." Adam Franti remarked as Thel came to a stop in the doorway.

"Human, leave, _now!_" Thel aggressively hissed at the Human, much to my disapproval. Adam Franti was, thankfully, compliant, and left with the bottle of liquor in his hands, passing Thel without even looking at him. As soon as he had turned the corner up ahead in the corridor, Thel began. "You commune with the Humans at random?" He hissed, marching into the room and slamming his fist onto the button that caused shutters to cover the window into the Void.

"This Human has much to tell that you should hear and heed." I calmly replied, ignoring his aggression that was beyond unusual.

"I will hear nothing from the bastard!" Thel hissed, approaching the bench he cut up with his energy sword earlier and began pulling some large, loose splinters of wood from the bench, venting his anger with pulling something apart.

"Fine," I calmly replied. "But do not tamper my efforts. Me and that Human? We were engaged in a conversation that interested me, and I'm not overly happy of its ending" Thel turned back to face me, anger in his eyes. "You _can_ learn much from this Human." I persisted.

Thel shook his head, violently and stubbornly. "Like what?!" He hissed, seemingly unaware to whom he was speaking to.

"Like how we are not so different."

Thel let out a laugh before snapping his mandibles violently at me, sending drool flying across the room. "They are not _like_ us. We have honor -they _do not!_ We have respect -they_ do not!_ We have patience -they_ do not!_ I can go on for units! Shall I?!"

"Thel," I gestured for him to stop. "You're blinded by hatred and betrayal-"

"_No!_" Thel hissed. "My eyes have been opened to the truth! A truth you're oblivious of."

I shook my head, saddened by his blind hatred. "You used to believe me wise, No? Why is now different? Why can't you trust my judgement?"

Thel hissed, again, more violently this time. Drool was seeping from his exposed mandibles. "That judgement never presumed to question the Prophet's motives!" He snared. "If you _are _so intellectually superior, why did you not _see _the obvious lies?!"

I quickly got up from leaning on the wall, uncrossing my arms and making sure to stare Thel right in the eyes. "I _always _assumed!" I replied, more coldness in my voice then I wanted, and being louder than I wanted, also. "I always questioned them! I always went behind their backs to find out the truth! _Never _think that I was oblivious to some conspiracy -never!"

Thel shook his head. "I care not for your excuses! My faith in you is gone! Go," He gestured to the doorway. "Leave and speak with your Human friend. But do not speak to me about them being anything more than _Nishum!_"

Nodding, I ceased persisting, and made my way out of the torn up room.

This was going to be a problem.


	41. Moving on from the Past

**(Courtney Jsarez)**

**Present Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[September 15, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[1152 - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Visitor Room, Saint Esberg Correctional facility, Mojave Desert, Nevada, United Republic of North America, Earth]**

* * *

><p>As scared as I was when I had to testify against him two decades ago in court, I was even more scared now.<p>

I've been through a lot of situations that have shown me a new level of fear; a level that only people like me could comprehend. I had been attacked and almost killed by an Elite, had to escape a world I called home as everyone died around me, been raped by my closest friend. It was me being raped that was truly the one out of the list that affected me the most. I didn't have nightmares about being attacked by that Elite, didn't have nightmares about Arcadia falling except some seriously bad nights of mourning over the Japanese family that I had fallen in love with.

What Eric did to me was in the past. While I could never forget about it, I could sure as hell stop letting him manipulate my life. I already took some big steps, but now, I needed to handle the one final step - I needed closure.

The talk Joyce always gave me about how I was stronger than most rape victims when it came to moving on was finally proven true - to me – when I managed to seat myself in the empty visiting room of Eric's prison, and see his face after all those years.

He managed to escape Arcadia, but he didn't escape what mental illness he had, because he never stopped. I thought that it was just me, but, that wasn't the case. If he regretted what he did, he would had stopped at me, but he didn't.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as Eric took his seat next opposite me, guard close by his side. Eric was wearing handcuffs, but I was still, nonetheless, afraid of what he could do. What he _might _do. I hadn't seen him in almost twenty years, and a lot would had changed in that time.

He sure _did_ look like the boy I once knew. His dark brown hair was at an average length with his fringe reaching his eyes; as it always had been. He had a rough beard, though, and that intimidated me. His ears were also pieced - he never liked the idea of ear piecing - and he had the sleeves of his blue prison jumpsuit rolled up to reveal numerous tattoos covering both his arms.

The Gravemind was still in my head, in his. The Gravemind didn't want me dead - that much was certain to me. If Eric was planning anything, I knew that the Gravemind would tell me. Red probably knew what I was doing, and probably disapproved. He never talked about Eric around me, so I never knew what he _really _thought of Eric. He hated him, obviously, but what would he do if he saw Eric in the flesh?

This person in front of me was my demon; my monster. I hated him more than I hated the Covenant as a whole, and wanted nothing more than for him to suffer for the rest of his life. He had to have hated me as well since I testified against him. His mind saw me as a slave, and I defied him.

Believing that Eric wanted nothing more than to torture me - if he could - I was completely and utterly dumbfounded by his first words.

He started by smiling. "Hey, Courtney, long time, no see, eh?"

I kept my face straight, but inside, I was screaming "What the fuck?!" Taking in a few deep breaths, trying to show my obvious disturbance, I folded my hands across the table we were both seated at, and leaned forward. "Yep, been while." I calmly replied. I was willing to play his game, for now.

"So, what've been up to these past two decades?" He asked, _still _smiling. I used to love that smile. Now, I found it more disturbing than the Gravemind. _(I'm touched.)_

"A lot. I joined the Navy and managed to find my brother-"

"Really?" He asked, rubbing his chin with his cuffed hands. "So, you _weren't_ crazy."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "You never thought I was." I calmly reminded him.

Eric smiled as he cracked his neck - something Joyce enjoyed doing. "Courtney, I always thought you were crazy, I just didn't show it."

Saying that I was surprised by his words would be the biggest piece of fucking sarcasm I could ever have muster. I figured he thought I was crazy when he raped me without any consideration for my feelings about it.

"You sure you didn't show it?" I questioned him suggestively.

Eric let out a sigh, leaning forward to make both me have to resist leaning back, and the guard taking a step closer to Eric. He must have had a bad reputation. "Why're you here, Courtney?" He asked me, cracking his neck again. "I'd like to know... seeing you hurts _me_ as well."

I snorted in disbelief as I turned my gaze to the distance. "I doubt that-"

"You killed our child," Eric coldly reminded me, making me snapped my eyes back to him. "You murdered it."

I couldn't help but laugh at his ignorance. He _was _the crazy one. "I didn't _'murder' _anyone. I just saved a kid from growing up knowing that their father was a fucking lunatic."

"It didn't have to know," He said, cracking his fingers now. "It could've grown up _not _knowing who its father was."

"That wouldn't work. At the time, you're conviction was only eleven years at the max. As far as I knew, you'd try to make contact with the kid if I had it," I ran my hand through my hair, remembering the events that happened that month. "Besides, you like to forget that I was sixteen at the time. How the hell was I meant to raise a kid at that age?"

"I always thought you were strong. Raising a baby... I thought you'd be able to handle that."

I scoffed. "Is that why you raped me?" I coldly questioned.

Eric shook his head.

"Then why?" I snapped.

"Ma'am?" The guard broke in. "I'm going to have to ask you to calm down, or be escorted out."

I nodded before turning back to face Eric. "Why, Eric?" I asked again, calmer this time.

"Because I wanted to," He replied, no remorse in his voice. He _didn't_ regret what he did. I didn't think he did, but having the theory confirmed hurt me. "I've always wanted to have sex with you. But when the time came, you pushed me away," He swallowed the lump in his throat. I couldn't believe he was upset about this. "I wasn't having any of it, okay? And boy... it was the best moment of my life."

Great, I was raped because I cockblocked him. At least now I knew why, and I could find closure in it. But I'd find more closure if I just had Osman order his death. No one would raise any questions, and he would be dead. It didn't seem like he was having any trouble living with himself, and it didn't look like he wanted to die.

I would do nothing. I would leave him here whether he liked it or not. He was just a rapist, and I wouldn't offer any special treatment to him because he raped _me. _And if I had Osman kill him, it'd probably come back to haunt me, then I would never forget him. Fate had a funny way of _always _making the joke on you. No, fate wasn't it, it was fucking Karma.

"Were those the reasons you raped those other women?" I asked, meaning his other convictions. After he was released after his conviction for raping me, he went straight back to it; finding a women he fantasized about, and raping her. It happened three times before he was caught and sentenced for twenty more years without parole.

Eric nodded in reply to my earlier question. "Yes."

I swallowed another lump forming in my throat. I wouldn't show any emotions around him - he didn't deserve it. "Then... that's it, I guess."

"Yeah," He quietly agreed. "You go back to your life, and I'll go back to mine."

I nodded, acknowledging his words as I got up from my seat, but keeping my eyes on him. "Just so you know, I've moved on with my life," I calmly told him. "You no longer have control over my life."

Eric let out a laugh. "I never wanted control over you, Courtney. I'm sorry if that's what happened."

"I forgive you... not just for that, but for everything," He raised his eyes to lock onto mine. "I hope that when your years are up in here, you decide to do something good with your life."

Eric lowered his gaze and nodded. "I hope you live a good life."

That was it. Afterwards, a guard came to escort me out of the visitor room while the other guard escorted Eric back to his cell block. I returned back at the prison's reception, filled out the required paperwork that BB helped walk me through via an earpiece before I left through the front doors of the prison.

I quickly looked around for where Dean had parked the military Warthog he borrowed from the local base in Henderson. It didn't take me long to find; the prison being in the middle of nowhere meant that visitors were limited in supply.

He didn't protest when I said I wanted to see Eric by myself. He understood, and I adored him for that. A lot of men would had probably protested if they heard that the person they loved wanted to see the person who raped them by themselves.

I looked up into the sky, covering my eyes from the midday sun and just let out a sigh before walking over to the 'Hog.

As soon as he saw me approach, Dean pulled his feet off of the steering wheel of the 'Hog, and straightened himself just as I pulled open the door and hopped in.

"Everything go alright?" He asked, starting up the vehicle.

"Yep." I nodded, wiping the sweat from the sun's heat from my forehead.

"That's good," He pulled the Hog out of the parking slot, turned it around, and brought it back onto the highway. "It's nearly lunchtime. Did you want to stop somewhere and get a bite, or go straight back to the port?"

"We can stop somewhere."

"That small restaurant we passed?"

"It's either that or wait until we reach Henderson."

The prison was located pretty far out in the Mojave Desert, so, the trek back to Henderson would be a long one, and I was hungry. The one good thing about the desert was the nice breeze that blew past as the 'Hog sped down the highway. The breeze accompanied by the isolation of the desert made it feel like it was just me and Dean left in the world.

"Thank you for coming all this way with me." I said, leaning against Dean's left arm as he drove - there wasn't any chances of him crashing since the road was so straight, and I needed the pressure of leaning into something soft.

"I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I didn't," He brought his left arm around and wrapped it around me before bringing me closer into him. "I'm just happy you managed to sort this all out."

"Yeah. He wasn't how I expected him to be."

"Was he better or worse?"

"Neither. He was just... himself."

After about fifteen more minutes of driving down the long ass highway, we finally made it to the small restaurant. It was a marvel it still remained in business being so far away from civilization, but that was a question I didn't really care about.

Parking the 'Hog, Dean leaped over the door of the vehicle as I opened mine and exited before we both made our way to the entrance of the restaurant and entered it to have the nice cold air-conditioned air blast us. I had no idea that the Mojave would be so hot - despite the warnings that it would be - and the air-conditioned building was the refreshment I needed.

We approached a free booth - which was easy to find since hardly anyone was in the restaurant - and took our seats just as a waitress came over to us and handed both of us a menu.

"I'll just take the ham burger and fries, Bitter-Bright beer with it, please." Dean said after a quick look through his menu before handing it back to the waitress.

Not understanding what half the food was, I handed the menu back, saying, "I'll have the same."

The waitress flashed us a grin and said, "No problem." before heading off to ready our orders. As the waitress left, Dean eyed someone behind me. Curious, I turned around the edge of the booth to see a middle-aged man walk up to us. By the looks of the apron, I'd say he was a cook, or owner.

"You a Marine?" He asked, pointing to Dean who was still wearing his Marine fatigues.

"I'm a Marine, she's Navy," He pointed to me. "Is there a problem?"

The man flashed us a friendly smile. "Not at all. Meal's on the house." I suspected a situation like this would occur. While I was grateful for the gesture, I didn't want to be considered a special case.

"We didn't save Humanity just to have a small restaurant go out of business because they were too kind," Dean interrupted. "Please, let us pay for the meals."

"We appreciate the gesture," I joined in. "But it doesn't seem like you get enough business to be making exceptions for us."

The man nodded. "Thanks. We could use the extra credit, but, it feels wrong to charge you guys after all you've done."

I gave a reassuring wave to dismiss his concerns. "Don't worry. With our military pay, we could _buy_ this restaurant. A single meal won't bother us."

"If that's how you want it." He gave us a friendly smile before heading back into the restaurant's kitchen.

"Damn, if this place wasn't in the middle of nowhere, I'd come here regularly." I remarked. If only service elsewhere was as good as it was here. Earlier, we went to a restaurant in Sydney, but were kicked out by the owners for being military. Apparently the restaurant was owned by the family of some outer-conlonists that lived on a planet abandoned by the UNSC. They would never understand the strategy behind some of the decisions the higher-ups had to make to ensure Humanity's survival.

Needless to say, I was pissed and had Osman sort out a way for the restaurant to be shut down. The only reason I wasn't trying to get them out of the street was because of the family's children. Without a business, they're lives would be harder, yes. But if they wanted to keep to the outer colonies style of being assholes, then they could live like the damn outer-colonists.

"Might want to put hold on that," Dean replied to my earlier remark, looking around before whispering, "their food could be crap."

I gave him a playful frown, hoping that no one heard. It wasn't much later that the waitress arrived with our food, and we immediately hoed into it.

"I take that back," Dean said, swallowing a mouthful of his burger. "This food's great!"

"Yeah," I agreed, examining my half-finished burger. "Nice quality for a restaurant like this." Dean took a sip of his beer and nodded in agreement.

Taking another bite of my burger, I asked Dean something that had bugged me for hours. "Hey, have you contacted your family?"

Dean placed his bottle of beer down. "Yeah... managed to get around it last night."

"And?..." I asked, hoping that it was good news. Since Dean grew up on Earth, and his family never left, there was the chance they didn't make it. But by the way he was acting, it must had been good news; he would had come to me for comfort if it were otherwise.

"They're alive and safe. They were among the first to get evacuated from Earth when the Covenant hit," He grinned. "They were more than a little pissed when they heard I was alive, and it's kinda odd to know that your little brother is now technically your older brother."

"The Monarch fucked up there," I bitterly said. "Nearly eight fucking years wasted."

"Forget about him," Dean told me. "How about your family?"

I sighed, remembering the news. It wasn't easy to take, and thinking about it sent my mind crazy. "My father died during the initial Covenant invasion. My mother's alive, but..." Dean grabbed my hand, reassuring me that I could stop if I wanted. "She's in a mental institution. She just couldn't handle my dad's death."

A real sadness appeared in Dean's eyes, and he grabbed both of my hands with his. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah..." I lowered my eyes, trying to prevent myself from tearing up and trying to get the thought of my mother out of my head. Apparently she almost lost it when I was listed MIA, so, my father's death setting her off was no surprise. According to the reports, she hardly ever spoke, and had to be forced-fed.

"Are you planning on going and seeing her?" He asked.

I nodded. "With Red, once ONI's done with him. I'm hoping that her seeing Red will bring her back." It wasn't unlikely, but it was a hope I had. She always denied both me and my dad telling her that Red was probably still alive, and always insisted he was dead. I hoped that stage had passed, because the last thing Red needed was his mother saying that he didn't exist right to his face.

We got back to eating our meals, and finished them without another word before thanking the owner and leaving.

Though being out in the heat again was uncomfortable, as soon as Dean started the 'Hog up and got it speeding back down the highway, the breeze started again, whipping my hair back, forcing me to tie it up with a hair-band. I'd probably cut it short, but that was a thought for another day. Right now, I was leaning on Dean's shoulder with his left arm wrapped around me as he drove and steered with his right.

Being this close to something felt... good. I felt warm inside whenever I made physical contact with Dean. This went against my beliefs that I wouldn't like anyone touching me. I was surprised when I actually began enjoying being close to Dean over finding it awkward.

I owed Joyce a lot for helping out. I only needed one session with him to realize that if I was going to move on, I needed to put aside my paranoia. Joyce emphasized that I shouldn't rush anything - which I did.

It felt wrong when I had sex with Dean. At the time, we were both drunk, and personal issues didn't stop us from tearing each others' clothes off. The next morning, however, I felt terrible; like I betrayed myself. Dean also felt terrible.

I put a lot of consideration to what I wanted to do after what happened. Although I was drunk, I still remembered feeling rather comfortable. I didn't feel sick thinking back on it, and I didn't regret what happened.

I asked Joyce what he thought of it, and he said that it was normal since I had mostly already recovered from what happened, but advised me to take my time and not do anything I was uncomfortable with.

He was right, though. It took a long time, but I healed myself. I stubbornly refused any therapy sessions when I was younger, but, I managed to recover without any outside help. Joyce just said that different people handle it differently.

I didn't regret starting anything with Dean. He was a good person, and he genuinely cared for me. And I didn't want to give him up - people like him were rare to come by. I quickly realized that I couldn't go back.

The only problem was the timing. I thought that the timing was okay since the danger had passed, and it was just a case of sitting back and waiting until we reached Earth, but that wasn't the case.

I didn't have to worry about any of that anymore. Things, right now, were perfect.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Campbell Joyce)<strong>

**Present Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[September 15, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[1226 - Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Sydney, Commonwealth of Australia, New South Wales, Earth]**

* * *

><p>Walking down Sydney's streets, I took a moment to appreciate how damn lucky I was to be alive.<p>

I had no doubt that if Parangosky was still in charge, my head would be on a pike - quite literally. But her protégé, Osman, took control not long ago, and while just as cold, she wasn't as merciless - as far as I knew, at least.

I would evade both execution and imprisonment, and I was free to do whatever I wanted. But how could I continue with my life? My family was dead; parents, wife, son, relatives. Earth was a foreign world to me.

Since it was a bit after lunchtime, I decided to find the nearest restaurant and grab something to eat. Unfortunately for me, the nearest restaurant was a Goddamn McDonalds. Out of all the corporations that were destroyed during the Covenant's invasion of Earth, McDonalds had to survive.

Sighing, I remembered how good their food was - even if it _was_ quite literally poison. The thought of McDonalds led to my stomach grumbling, and my stomach grumbling led me to crossing the busy road and entering the toxic-house. The only reason the corporation survived nearly six-hundred years was the taste of its food.

When I entered the death-house, I was surprised to see Hallas Day and Brian Davis sitting in a booth. Smiling at the thought that I wasn't the only one out of the battle-hardened crew of the _Kryptonite _who liked McDonalds, I approached the their booth.

"Campbell, what're you doing here?" Hallas asked, gesturing for me to take a seat while wearing a friendly smile.

"Nearly three weeks of eating MREs, I need a burger." I explained, leaning back in my seat.

"Hey!" Brian protested. "Don't insult the stuff _we _live off!"

Since Hallas was seated next to Brian, he managed to flash me a smile, much to annoyance. "Sorry," I reluctantly apologized to the Lance Corporal before turning my attention to Hallas. "I thought ONI would've already redeployed you."

Hallas shook his head. "No, not yet. I was considering quitting, but..." His eyes dwelt on the table. "They offered me a position aboard the _Infinity._"

I didn't blame him for accepting the offer. The _Infinity _was said to be the biggest Human ship ever created, and had enough power to stand against the entire Sangheili fleet. Too bad it was a few years late, and the war was over. Now the ship was tasked with exploration, and I could see the potential for ONI scientists aboard it.

"Sounds like the offer of a lifetime," I said. "But unlike you, I'll be quitting. Not the entire profession, just leaving ONI."

"I don't know," Hallas took a bite of his burger before adding, "The civilian pay is _nothing _compare to what ONI will give you."

"I just want to settle down, Hallas," I sighed. "I can't do that if I have to be actively deployed to different ships. And I've seen enough of the horrors' of war the past three weeks to want to get out of it," I turned to face Brian. "How about you? What are you planning."

Brian took a sip from his drink before replying. "The Psychologist I'm seeing has assessed that I'm unfit for a deployment. I can't even work back home, it's that bad," A sad expression appeared on Brian's face. He loved the Corps, but, now he'd have to abandon it. "I've no choice but to be honorably discharged."

"I'm sorry," I said truthfully. "You really loved the Corps."

Brian began rubbing his shaven chin. "I'm not so sure if I _can_ love it anymore. They've let ONI have such a jurisdiction over them that people like Roras are getting through. _Dang it,_ I can't imagine serving beside people who are secretly convicts, and if you can't trust your comrades, then you can't be a soldier."

"It's good that you've come to terms with that," I said. "It makes it slightly more easier," I turned my head towards the counter and saw that the line of people had deteriorated, and I had a chance to jump in and get my food. "I'll be back in a moment."

I got up out of the booth and went over to the back of the line. The good thing about the McDonalds I was in was that it was in a large industrialized area. All of the people here were on lunch break, and were getting their food fast so they could quickly get back to work. It didn't take me long to reach the counter and order my food. Since the food was already cooked, they quickly shuffled up my order, and sent me on my way.

I scooted back into the booth Hallas and Brain were in, pulling off the wrapping of my burger and taking a large bite out of it. I almost drooled it was so good. But, I remembered that I would be lucky if this food didn't kill me.

"I find it odd that McDonalds managed to survive the Covenant's invasion." Hallas remarked, taking a handful of chips and stuffing them into his mouth.

"Maybe they bribed the Covenant with their food?" Brian jokingly suggested. "It's good enough to make the Covenant turn a blind eye."

"If that were the case, then there's sure a lack of the Covenant races almost being extinct." I replied to his joke with another joke, causing them both to chuckle, but a nearby customer to grunt in disapproval before moving away, pissed that we insulted his favorite restaurant - I guessed it was his favorite because he was one of the fattest man I had ever met.

"You see all that SPARTAN propaganda?" Hallas asked, taking a sip from his drink afterwards.

"No. Why? Is it bad?" I asked.

Brian was the one to answer. "ONI's so desperate to make their SPARTANs seem baddass, that they endorse Rule 34 with the SPARTANs."

"Red won't be happy about that." I remarked, visualizing the potential to what he meant. I was put off my food when the image of a CGI SPARTAN raping a CGI Elite came to my head. It was hard to believe ONI agreed to something like that, but, they had to appease to _everyone_ that SPARTANs were Humanity's heroes - even neck-beards.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. "Maybe Earth really isn't all that good a place to settle down in."

"If you put aside the terrible people, then, it can be." Hallas told me, and I scolded myself, remembering that Earth was his homeworld.

"Sorry. I forgot you grew up here." I apologized.

Before Hallas could answer, someone dropped their tray of food, making a loud bang that startled Brian, and sent him into a panic attack.

"What?" Brian mumbled, beginning to panic. "Klyn! Colvic!" Brian fell out of the booth and onto the tiles, drawing the eyes of everyone. "HE'S KILLING THEM!"

"Shit!" I muttered as I leaped out of the booth, kneeling down next to Brian and attempting to calm him down as Hallas did the same. "Brian, Brian, calm down." This wasn't related to Amber. The bangs were from when Roras gunned down everyone in the medical bay.

"HE WON'T STOP!" Brian pushed me away, starting to lash out at Hallas as well.

"Could you make him stop?" A nearby mother of two asked. "He's scaring my kids."

Ignoring the mother, I tried desperately to get Brian to stop. "Brian, you _need _to calm down."

"Brian, relax, nothing's happening," Hallas added. "It was just a tray."

"Is he retarded or something?" The fat man who was annoyed that we insulted McDonalds asked. "Should've took him somewhere else if he was retarded."

Being a doctor, his ignorance and slang pissed me the hell off. Without thinking, I snapped my eyes around him. "Who uses that word?" I asked him, my voice getting louder. "This is the 26th damn century - grow the hell up!"

"The point remains: You shouldn't have bought a retard here." The man persisted, and to my shock, several other people voiced their agreement.

That was enough for me, and I got up, leaving Hallas to calm Brian down - who was still screaming. "He hasn't got any mental disabilities!" I explained. "He's got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!"

"What's that?" The mother asked.

Annoyed since the disorder _had _to have been mention a dozen different times on the news, I elaborated. "It's what's in the name!" I snapped, getting increasingly agitated. "He saw something traumatic, and it's left a lasting impact on him."

"So?" The mother asked trying to comfort her visibly upset children. "That's no excuse to give him special treatment. He's yelling, swearing, and screaming in a public area, and you're using a disorder to try to make it all right?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "My child has Autism, and acts up a lot," The mother persisted. "But when he does, I just spank him, and he starts acting the way a child his age should."

Clearly, this women was living a few hundred years in the past, and was ignorant_ beyond belief. _"It's not a case of giving him special treatment!" I protested, Brian's screams still in my ear. "It's a case that he _can't help it! _He's doing this because something triggered a horrific memory."

The mother scoffed. "There's no memory that can make someone turn into a sniveling baby like that." She pointed to Brian.

I was seriously losing it, but I wouldn't step down. "Miss," Another customer intervened. "This is normal for people like him. Have you seen his uniform? He's a Marine. He's probably seen stuff you wouldn't believe."

"You standing up for this man?" The fat man questioned the man siding with us. "He's screaming and yelling in front of a couple of young kids. That's not good for them. That man," He gestured to Brian who was beginning to calm down. "He's not fit for society."

"That's cruel," One of the staff-members who came out to see what was happening said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The fat man turned around to the staff-member. "This is _bullshit!_" He growled. "I'm getting kicked out for expressing my opinion?! _The fuck?!_"

"This is ridiculous," The mother complained. "That man's clearly acting up."

More people voiced their agreements and protests, and I was starting to get fed up with the state of these peoples' minds after everything that had happened. "Have you _even_ seen outside?" I asked her, taking in a few deep breaths. "Nearly two years after the war's end, and this city is _still_ being rebuilt. _You have not seen what he has._ If you're this ignorant, then you probably got evacuated and came back after the fighting was done. _Do not _think that because you haven't seen how this war is, it isn't dangerous. Do you know how close we came to almost being wiped out from existence?"

The mother scoffed. "Yeah, I know. The Covenant found Earth. The fact that they did proves that Marines like him-" She pointed to Brian. "-didn't do their job right."

I saw first-hand Marines doing their jobs. Marines- no, every UNSC personnel had a commitment to protect Humanity, and did so to the last-minute. I witnessed the commitment firsthand; the sacrifices they made. I couldn't stand idle as someone insulted the memory of all those who died _for _them.

An overpowering rage swept over me, and I marched towards the mother who began backing away, pushed her kids aside with my hands, making one fall to the floor and hit his head, and snapped my hand across the mother's face.

She tumbled back, but I didn't stop. I struck her again, and again, drawing blood. I would definitely lose my job, and never be able to work as a doctor again. But I didn't care. I saw people die fighting for Humanity, and I realized that most of the survivors of Humanity weren't worth dying for.

The women began crying as I struck her again, her two kids screaming in horror at the sight of their mother being attacked. It was Hallas and two other men that pulled me off of her and to the ground. The sound of all the panic set Brian off again, and he started screaming for me to stop "Slicing her up"

It wasn't until I was being dragged into the backseat of a police vehicle by two equally pissed off cops that I finally managed to utter the words, "Fuck me."

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

I'm trying to tread very carefully with White and Courtney's relationship. I don't want to offend anyone with Courtney getting in bed with another guy when her raping is still so present in her mind, but I think I've emphasized enough that it's been two decades since she was raped, and she has moved pasted a lot of the obstacles that so many people encounter with that type of situation. I hope this is good enough for people because I really can't go deep into the recovery of something like this. Even making the slightest of mistakes could offend someone. To be honest, I kinda regret making Courtney get raped, but I can't go back. At the time, I thought it would just be something that was there.


	42. Alien Grade Escalation

****AUTHOR'S NOTES:****

I've always been rather worried about the subsequent circumstances of my premature death. I'm not one to be paranoid – but this is an online realm, and if something happens to me on my side, it's going to be near impossible for anyone on the other side to know.

My biggest concern is if something happens to me people may think I've just quit writing my stories all together without any warning. I'm not one for that. As long as I have people with expectations of me—however few those figures are – then I will continue to write. If I want to stop, I'll say so.

But to be certain, at the beginning of each month (Or the day before/after for some since I'm in Aussie land) I'll update a status on my profile page. So, next month, I'll get on and type in (ACTIVE AS OF 12/2014) This will hopefully give people a better idea of my status. Even if I'm not working on this site per se, I'll still update the status.

I really hope I'm justoverrating here. But I think it's a point that really needed to be addressed for me personally.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>**

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[November 11, 2547]****

****[TIME]********-********[1134 – Standard Military Time]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite, **_******Outside Captain's Quarters, Slip-Space]****

* * *

><p>"So, what?" I asked. "It's not treatable?"<p>

The Monarch cocked its centered eye around, observing my rather negative reaction to its news. "I'm afraid not, Reclaimer," The Monarch replied. "Recorded study into these symptoms were tampered by the Flood's spread. More pressing concerns took the research time."

"Such as the construction of the Halo Arrays," Fleighted Fire added.

"Waiting it out's the only cure?" I questioned the two.

"If this disorder is cast upon by the Gravemind, then it is a logical conclusion that the disorder will end once the Gravemind leaves," The Monarch explained.

"What you see is not abnormal," Fleighted Fire added. "I was awaiting you to raise these concerns, and while it's all in your head, being cast upon by the Gravemind's presence, it can, in fact, bring about harm to you."

"Pain is psychological." The Monarch hovered towards me. "As long as it has the control over your nerves, there's no pain it cannot inflict."

"I do believe that the Gravemind has already limited the figures control," Fleighted Fire mused. "Am I correct?"

"First time I encountered it was a dream with my sister. All pain I experienced in the dream passed on to reality. So far, I haven't had any more dreams... not ones that involve the creature attacking, at least."

"What _do _the dreams show?" The Monarch asked as the door to the Captain quarter's hissed open, Nai coming out shortly after.

"The figure holding a child," I answered with Nai frowning as she realized what was transpiring. "But... it's odd. Yesterday when we first encountered it, the child was newly born... Today, however, the baby seems to be a year older."

"You could tell by physical examination?" Fleighted Fire questioned.

"Yeah," Nai said, joining in on the conversation. "Human babies are easy to identify in age – especially when they're in their younger years," Nai turned her gaze from the two floating orbs to me. "What'd they say?"

I shrugged. "It'll pass once the Gravemind leaves."

Nai snorted at the notion. "Yeah, I doubt the Gravemind's planning on leaving you." _(A correct assumption. Credit is not due, however, as 'obvious' anchors the judgement.) _

"We'll just have to put up with it, then," I concluded. "It shouldn't be a problem. The Gravemind's able to keep the figure from attacking our nerves, so pain's not going to be a problem. It's rate of appearance is also lowered."

Nai frowned as she began rubbing her chin. "What's in it for the Gravemind?"

"The pain harms _it _too," I explained. "A mutual benefit. That, and it's apparently growing tired of iis sadistic side, and it just wants to get back to Earth so it can complete its mission. I'm hoping this is true, because if it is, then I don't have to worry about it trying to get anyone killed in combat just for a kick."

"Then tell us how you're able to see what's going on in this ship," She addressed the Gravemind. "It'll be much easier on all of us." _(If you cannot develop a sense of comprehension in this affair, then, no alterations, will I divulge.)_

"Did you get that?" I asked Nai, hoping she did.

She nodded. "Yep. The Gravemind _may _be losing its asshole side, but it's still enjoying playing its games."

"We'll play along," I said. "Me might get a reward out of it."

Nai let out a sigh, running a hand through her shoulder-length brown hair. "I hate to admit it, but it's rewards _are _kinda nice when they aren't devious or related to some bullshit that makes me anything other than happy."

Smiling, I fell in with Nai and the two Forerunner AIs as we began down the corridor of the ship, heading to the elevator that would take us down to the aft hanger-bay to meet with the Hybrids. I hoped they would be more forthcoming about the truth behind the Precursor artifact. The Gravemind didn't seem to mind me asking all sorts of questions, so I assumed it wanted us to know. This was odd as Nai likely planned on using it as another bargaining chip against ONI. This probably meant that it was planning to enact on its plans before ONI could get their hands on us. Or the Gravemind had some other plan.

"Sorry about the time change," Nai said. "The last thing I wanted was to mess you around, but I really needed to speak to Joyce."

I figured she'd be upset about putting the meeting with the Hybrids off from 0900 hours to 1130 hours, but it's not something I wanted. I didn't want her to get all modest because she hadn't seen me in years, I wanted her to act towards me how she normally would. "It's fine," I reassured her. "If you need to talk to him, you need to talk."

"Yeah," She said, her mind elsewhere. "I think it was a good enough excuse."

It was mostly quiet even when we reached the elevators, funnelled in, and set a course. But after taking the elevators down to the floor the hangers to the aft hanger-bay were on, we exited the elevators to be greeted by David Larson, Lighter Than Some, and Yoplap.

I had killed thousands of Grunts, and I didn't recall any that had impacted me to a magnitude that affected me mentally – except the ones of Draco III that murdered the entire populace. But for the first time in my life, I witnessed how effective a Grunt could be.

I didn't think Larson would submit and agree to Nai's terms, but he did. The Grunt, Yoplap, with the assistance of Lighter managed to convince the seemingly old ONI operative to stand down. He had some desires, such as to be able to freely be able to contact his superiors once we reached Earth, but that was it. It all happened late last night; he decided to be a jerk, and wait until it was midnight just to annoy Nai. After the meeting, he was granted permission for a surgery that would give him a prosthetic leg developed by REAP-X.

The leg was onyx-black, and had been modified to fit him accordingly. By the looks of it, it seemed that he was rather comfortable wearing it.

The prosthetic leg looked to have multiple components built into it. I already decided I'd look over the full report on it later; see what was equipped in the thing. Right now, however, I was more curious by the bits and pieces on the leg that _didn't _seem normal.

The leg looked to had been tampered with. Instead of their being the normal foot, it looked like it was replaced with an eight digit foot – four digits facing each way. I figured it was an unusual grappling tool, and could greatly enhance Larson's agility, but I wondered why it looked fully finished, yet somehow look like it was tampered with.

The answer quickly hit me. Larson and Lighter must had modified it. I wouldn't had been surprised if the digits were made out of mechanical components for a Warthog – they were _that _primitive in design.

I had no doubt that the prosthetic would get the job done. But I was more worried about the holstered pistol on Laron's hip than I was his leg.

"Larson," Nai acknowledged him as we came to a stop in front of him and his group. "What're you up to?"

Him being here was no coincident, so I prepared for a fight. With Fleighted Fire and the Monarch on our side, the scales were tipped in our favor. I still didn't like the idea of fighting him, though, and I hoped he would've complied with Nai's demands. It didn't seem like he did.

"Relax, ma'am." He waved for as to be at ease. "I'm heading to see the Hybrids as well. Since I was local, Timmy told me to wait up for you."

"Jesus, Timmy," Nai let out a sigh of relief. "I almost had a heart attack."

"Had I know any tension was inevitable, I would have told you, ma'am," Timmy said over the corridor's interior speakers, adding, "Your heart was also not at any danger of failing. I'm monitoring your vitals via your neural interface, and I'll be blunt and say that you're overreacting."

Nai snorted as she began down the corridor, me, the Monarch, Fleighted Fire, David and his group falling in behind her. I wondered why she just didn't have Timmy's personality scripting changed, but I quickly came to the realization that Nai actuallyenjoyed Timmy's remarks. I found it entertaining as well; it was a break from his usual "by-the-books" personality that almost got me and Nai locked up by the mutineers, and possibly executed.

After a small trek through the corridors and taking another elevator down to the aft hanger-bay, we met up with the Hybrids.

The bay was mostly empty with a few pilots and maintenance crew attending to the various different aerial vehicles in the bay. The hundred-or-so Hybrids were all doing their own business; talking to each other, watching the pilots and maintenance crew do their work was business for them. The Hybrid children just ran around and played with a ball that was supplied to them, and a large group of females came rushing forward at the sight of us.

The females went straight over to Larson, and began asking him questions in their odd language that consisted of them clattering their teeth together to form sounds, squawking and making other various bird noises, and hissing and growling like reptiles. They also rubbed their two spins that protruded from the flap of skin that covered their collective ears, nose, gills together to form other sounds – which I found interesting, but also intimidating.

Since I couldn't understand what they were saying, I immediately pulled my earpiece out of my fatigue's pocket and plugged it into my ear, switching it on to have a clear AI voice translate their words. We all had Lighter Than Some to thank for all of the translation devices he built.

"Constrictor, Constrictor," One of the females beamed. "Have you new tales to tell us? Or do you desire our own tales to be told?"

Constrictor was Larson's ONI codename. It had a nice ring to it, and he moved with the grace of a snake – albeit, a smaller, slimmer one. It was odd that the Hybrids would refer to him by that name, but I took no heed in it.

Surprisingly, Larson smiled and laughed as the females grabbed his clothes for examination, sniffing and scratching at him. This was the first time I ever saw the clone happy, and it was odd. Thankfully, the Gravemind took back its plans to break Larson emotionally. According to the Gravemind, it was getting bored of trying to cause the mental and physical pain. It related this to evolving, and I was more than a little impressed by its new-found attitude. _(I am still conspiring to destroy all you conceive.) _The Gravemind liked to remind me that it was a dick when I respected it at times. It must had not liked the respect.

The Grunt, Yoplap, let out a shocked yelp when one of the females grabbed its arm for inspection, sending the young Hybrid bounding back in shock.

Lighter, distressed by the tension, floated in and began rubbing its tentacles over Yoplap in a reassuring motion while Larson waved for the Hybrid to come back over.

Larson seemed to like interacting with different cultures. On his file – that I had Timmy give me access to – it was state that he wouldn't speak to anyone unless asked questions, and would only get interest in a conversation if culture was bought up. Here, however, it seemed he actively went searching for information on the different cultures. This could have been because it was alien culture, or any other number of reasons. I just found that if he was sidetracked with something that interested him, then he wouldn't focus on how he was going to kill us if ONI ordered it of him when we reached the Sol System.

"T'Rakas," Nai greeted the clan leader of the Hybrids as he approached us, his two sons at his side. "Got a few more questions to ask."

T'Rakas nodded for her to continue.

"The artifact, the Inspectoris Omnium – it was destroyed when Halo was destroyed, right?" The creature nodded. Nai continued, "Well, the Gravemind still seems to be able to use its telepathic abilities despite this. Can you tell me why?"

"This is not normal," T'Rakas observed, rubbing the bottom of his jaw with his clawed hand. "Such a topic of conversation should not exist."

"Ma'am," Larson came up behind us, Yoplap and Lighter right behind him. "I need a word with you and Sierra, in private?"

Nai nodded, following Larson and his two friends. I took up the rear, the Monarch and Fleighted Fire remaining behind to converse with the Hybrid leader.

"What is it?" Nai asked as we came to a stop out of earshot of the Hybrids and Forerunner synthetics.

"The amulet around the clan leader's neck."

I immediately reacted, using my enhanced vision to focus on the amulet T'Rakas was wearing. Though its attire mostly consisted of Forerunner metal and their own harvested metal, the amulet looked foreign.

It was the Inspectoris Omnium. "It's the artifact," I said. "The Hybrids have it."

"_What the fuck?!"_ Courtney whispered aloud, shocked. "Why do they have it?! They said they fucking didn't!"

_(The clan leader said what I told him to say. Do you think you are alone, Human?) _My eyes widened as realization to the Gravemind's words entered my mind. "The clan leader – he's got a Flood spore in its brain, like me."

Nai was fuming when she heard it. "...Then why didn't the fucking Seer see it?!" She exclaimed, her anger raising through me, making me pissed off as well. "

_(The Inspectoris Omnium shields the mind of the wielder. This was my own alteration that I crafted when the clan leader willingly gave me the Inspectoris Omnium after returning to his clan from a long hunting trip. In actual fact, he was captured by my brethren and bought before me. He is mine, and his clan have no knowledge of it. The Inspectoris Omnium's appearance is only known to the clan leader.) _

"...Nai-"

"I got it," She said before I could ask her my question. "The Gravemind must've smuggled the artifact back to the Hybrids before capturing you. It's wireless, of sorts, right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "The Gravemind only needed to have in implemented into him once for him to be able to access its telepathic abilities from anywhere." _(A reasonable assessment – one that is correct. My ploy is over; the truth known. Be aware, if you destroy the artifact, I'll cease refraining from taking control of this host, and kill all I have the ability to.) _I wondered why the Gravemind hadn't taken control of me to do some of its bullshit, and this answered it. Seemed like it was just saving it; luring me into a false sense of security.

"Don't need to destroy it," Nai addressed the Gravemind. "I'll keep it and use it as another thing against ONI. Perhaps we could use it to get all of ONI's secrets and use it against them-"

"NO!" I exclaimed, finally realizing the Gravemind's plans; why it took me as a host, why it was using this artifact, why it wanted to get back to Earth all came to me. "That's what it wants! It wants all of ONI's dirty secrets, then it'll use me to spill it! It's going to use me and the artifact to cause an inside war! Break us apart before picking us off!"

Nai's eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she pictured the plan in action. "Smart," She commended. "But it won't work. Even if you manage to get all of this out, ONI will just rebuke it-"

"And let loose the existence of the Flood to the public?" I broke her off. "The Gravemind plans for me to do something along the lines as broadcast myself on every source of media and expel their secrets! If news of the Flood reaches the public's ears, then there's a big chance of mass chaos!"

"The Covenant and the Flood..." Nai mused, rubbing her chin. "Humanity will shit itself in fear," She locked her eyes onto me. "Plus, there's some secrets that ONI has that will be too difficult to deny... too... too much proof of them."

"He also plans on pissing 'Lodam off so much that he'll do everything in his power to bring us down; war or not." I said. "Even if the war ends, it's planning on making the conflict continue." _(How do you know of my plans? I have not told you these steps.) _It was a lucky guess. That, and it was all becoming obvious, now. Almost everything that had happened was caused by the Gravemind, and thinking about it, it all made sense. It wanted me to kill 'Lodam, but not _really _kill him. It wanted me to piss 'Lodam off enough that he would do everything in his power to make sure Humanity fell – it seemed like it was succeeding.

"Well, the most logical conclusion is to destroy the artifact," Nai put her hands on her hips. "But that's not an option."

"Ma'am," Larson finally broke his silence. "I advise that we detain T'Rakas and gain possession of the artifact."

Nai nodded. "Yeah, alright," She keyed her earpiece. "Timmy, get a Fireteam down here ASAP."

"Understood, Captain," Timmy replied over the COM channel me and Nai were connected up to. Moments later, we turned our attention back to the Hybrids, Monarch and Monitor. They were still all communicating with each other, trying to figure out how the Gravemind still has access to the destroyed artifact's powers. Little did the Fleighted Fire and the Monarch know that the artifact wasn't destroyed, and was present _on _the ship.

"Is there going to be fighting?" Yoplap asked.

"Yes," Larson answered, turning to face Lighter. "Lighter, please escort Yoplap from the hanger-bay."

Lighter let out a high pitch groan in reply, using its tentacles to wave Yoplop to follow him. Before Yoplap began following the Huragok, it pulled its plasma pistol off of its hip and aimed it at T'Rakas along with us as the Hybrid began approaching us.

"Halt!" Nai warned the Hybrids, magnum at the ready.

_(Cease. The desirable is imminent.) _Trusting the Gravemind, Nai waved for Larson and Yoplap to lower their weapons as she did. The Monarch and Fleighted Fire, however, remained on guard, aware of what was happening – probably having been told by T'Rakas moments ago.

The clan leader halted in front of Nai, bringing his hand around his neck and snapping off the amulet before handing it to Nai. "Forgive me, Human," T'Rakas replied. "I was careless."

"What is this?" One of T'Rakas' sons, J'Kravias asked.

"A mistake," T'Rakas a, taking a step back from Nai before turning to face his son. "I am the Graveminds."

"No!" J'Kravias protested, hissing at his father's words. "You are not!"

"I am, son... I've failed our mission. Because of me, the Flood will reap the galaxy of life."

J'Kravias' eyes snapped to me before snapping to Fleighted Fire. "Is the spore in his mind destroyed?"

"No," Fleighted Fire replied.

"Why did you not tell us?" J'Kravius hissed at the Monitor, alarming us to a possible confrontation.

"Multiple reasons. One: I did not have the required time to explain. Two: It was irrelevant. Three: It is not required by my protocols. Four: Informing you would bring a great deal of harm on the Reclaimer host."

"Why?" I asked, taking a step forward, eyeing down J'Kravius who was hissing at me.

"Oh," Fleighted Fire hovered down in front of me. "Why, they will kill you, of course, This species lives to kill the Flood, no matter what, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire turned back to the Hybrids whose warriors were beginning to form up behind T'Rakas' other son, J'Vetlas. "This could be a problem."

Nai, Larson, Yoplap, and me raised our weapons at the Hybrids. Even T'Rakas came over to our group, raising his spear at his son. He was probably being controlled by the Gravemind; without the constraints that the Monitor had implemented into my brain, the Gravemind would've been able to take control of T'Rakas at any time it desired.

The maintenance crew began to hurry to the emergency exits while the pilots pulled out their magnums and ran for cover. The Monarch and Fleighted Fire powered up their own weapons, and the Sentinels that were patrolling around the hanger-bay quickly redirected to assist.

The Hybrid warriors and J'Vetlas pulled out their weapons; an assortment of spears, short-swords that matched the ones used by ancient Greeks, and axes. All had holographic blades – technology utilized by harvest Forerunner constructions; terminals, maintenance utilities.

Instead of charging, the Hybrids leaped apart, using the momentum of their strong legs to jump incredible heights. Most jumped over to where the pilots were, grabbing the pistols out of their hands and cutting them apart with their holographic blades before kicking the pilots to the ground.

They didn't want to kill anyone other than me. I wasn't going to allow that. I began opening fire, backed up by Larson, Nai, the Monarch, Fleighted Fire, and even Yoplap. The rounds only bounced – or in Yoplap's case, splash – off of the surfaces behind the Hybrids as they simply leaped out-of-the-way.

Most leaped close. One managed to leap in front of Yoplap, snatching the plasma pistol off of the startled Grunt and knocking the squealing creature out cold, garnering a grunt from Larson who snapped his aim around, gunning down the Hybrid warrior who made a failed attempt to escape.

Lighter Than Some – who was hiding behind a Longsword – heard his friend squealing, and came out of hiding to find and help him. Not letting another friend get harmed, Larson ignored the Hybrids and ran to Lighter, grabbing his tentacle and quickly leading him away from the battle – much to the distress of Lighter.

A warrior managed to get close to Nai, and snatched the magnum out of her hands and kicked her to the ground. I felt the impact through my chest, and accompanied by Courtney's stress that was rushing through me, I began to panic, redirecting my aim from the Hybrid that was leaping towards me to the one that was atop of Nai, hissing at her to stay idle in the conflict.

I managed to shoot a single shot into the Hybrid's head, sending red blood and brains onto Nai and the ground. Remembering the Hybrid leaping to me, I dodged just as the creature sliced at me with its blade. I spun back around to fire two rounds at the creature, who easily dodged them before letting out a hiss and leaping away only to be shot down by a Sentinel in mid-air.

T'Rakas helped Nai back onto her feet before hurrying over to protect me. I was the Gravemind's biggest priority; Nai was only a secondly ally that could assist, nothing more. I didn't worry about her as they weren't seeking to kill her, and several Fireteams of Marines had just began filing out of the elevators, already firing at the Hybrids and escorting the pilots to safety with the assistance of several Sentinels who were also keeping the Hybrids from attacking the Marines.

Larson quickly came rushing back, shooting down an unsuspecting warrior with a couple of well placed shots before dodging the swipe of another Hybrid and kicking the Hybrid aside before turning his attention to me. "Sierra, jump on my mark!"

The Gravemind immediately showed me what he was planning, and I quickly prepared.

"Three... two... one... mark!" I leapt into the air just as a shockwave went through the ground of the hanger-bay. The mechanical prosthetic leg of Larson's managed to send a shockwave through the ground, disorientating nearly everyone. It seemed to work similar to a concussion grenade.

Wasting no time in marvelling what happened, me, the Sentinels, Monarch, Fleighted Fire, and T'Rakas – who also managed to jump – got to work, sprinting over to disorientated Hybrids and executing them – me firing an M225 SAP-HE into their heads, T'Rakas stabbing them with his spear, and the Forerunner robots melting them apart with their lasers.

By the time the effects of Larson's prosthetic leg let up, all of the Hybrid warriors were dead. I quickly assessed the situation. No one was harmed by Larson's plans, but a few Marines were puking – which were normal symptoms. Larson shook his head to recover, and immediately ran over to Yoplap, assessing the Grunt for any damage.

Holstering my weapon on my hip, I turned in the direction of the civilian Hybrids. Most of them had broken off to their dead warriors, saying prayers over their bodies and silently mourning their loss. They were only doing what they thought were right, but I wasn't planning on dying anytime soon.

"Defiance is the pinnacle of what I can withstand!" T'Rakas hissed. "Now is time to remove any further opposition." _(Stop me, and you will suffer.) _Not understanding, I quickly retracted my confusion when I saw T'Rakas march over to a female Hybrid, swing his spear back, and shove it through her chest, making the young female screech in pain before dying, red blood pouring out from her wound, and splattering further as T'Rakas pulled his spear out of her and turned his attention to another Hybrid.

Instead of attacking the Hybrid, he went over to a nearby dumbstruck Marine as the Hybrids began to panic and snatched the DMR off of the Marine. T'Rakas then spun around and began landing well-placed shots on the Hybrids, gunning them down mercilessly.

Once the weapon's ammo was depleted, T'Rakas snatched another weapon off of another Marine. It didn't take him long to gun down the rest of the Hybrids; children, women, elderly, it didn't matter. The Gravemind was going to make sure that nothing like what just happened ever happened again.

The screeches of the dying and hisses and growls of those who attempted to charge T'Rakas was still in my head. It was horrible. The elderly stood no chance while the children ran for cover, but never made it. The females did their best to try and shield the defenceless or attack T'Rakas, but their efforts were in vain.

In a matter of moments, T'Rakas became the only living Hybrid left in the Universe.

Once T'Rakas was done, he dropped the assault rifle in his hands before roaming off. Everyone had their eyes on all of the Hybrid's bodies, shocked by what they just saw. The fact that no Marine intervened must had meant that Timmy overheard T'Rakas' warning to what would happen if anyone intervened, and broadcasted it across all of the Marines' channels.

The only person who didn't look at the massacre in awe was Larson who immediately sprinted over to the body of a young dead female, kneeling down next to it and checking the vitals. He shook his head sadly upon discovering of the female's confirmed death, and went over to the next body.

Body after body. He checked them all, growing more frustrated and agitated with each body. Once he was done, he marched off to one of the elevators, taking it out of the hanger-bay and leaving Lighter Than Some and Yoplap behind. Lighter sensed Larson's distress, and went to take another elevator after him.

Everything had just turned into a fucking mess.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Thel 'Lodam)<strong>**

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[November 11, 2547]****

****[TIME]********-********[1223 – Standard Military Time]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite **_******Non-Designated Corridor, Slip-Space]****

* * *

><p>"Well." I took a step towards Anve, who had just finished speaking with the Monarch over a communications channel. "What's happened?"<p>

"The Hybrids attempted to kill the Demon," Anve began explaining. "All are dead save their clan leader, whose under the control of the Gravemind. There are no Human casualties-"

"Shame," I said bitterly.

"Not particularly," Anve replied. "The Human warriors fought with an undeterred commitment to protect the Human Captain and the Demon. There's honor to be found there."

Without considering my actions, I struck Anve, smashing my fist across his face, sending him tumbling back, teeth and blood pooling out of his mouth and onto the ground. "I grow restless of all this talk of _'Human honor'!_" I snapped, ignoring the squeals and yelps of the Grunts as they entered a panic at my violence.

"Thel..." Anve placed his hand up to stop me from continuing, getting back to his feet. I didn't expect him act how he did next, but he did. He charged at me, grabbing my throat and slamming me against the Human bulkhead. "You're weak!" He snapped, sending drool splatter across my face. "You've let emotions cloud your judgement and make you lose your way!"

I snarled back at him, grabbing his hands and forcing them away from my throat. "You're _blinded _by the Humans just like Vale! Have I no allies?!"

Anve released my throat, making me drop to the ground. He then proceeded to go over to where Suras, Freyn, Kri, Qrs and his three operatives were, rounding up the fleeing Unggoy. "No, you have no allies!" Anve snapped at me as they all turned and headed down the corridor away from me, the Unggoy barking at me as they left.

I was fine with them leaving my side for Vales. I didn't want to have those blinded by their love for Humans to be in a close proximity of me. I was the only sane one left on the dreaded Human vessel, so I needed a desirable amount of space to conceive a plan against the Humans once we reached their planet.

Hearing the sound of armored Human boots scuffle along the corridor's grated ground, I snapped around in the direction I and the rest of the Diverted had just come from, and ran towards a nearby junction, turning around to find a Human standing there.

This Human was large, and wore an intimidating face. His name was Wade Tulnai, I believed, and he was stalking me to end my life.

I would act first. And I did.

Before the Human could react to me discovering him, I draped my claws around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the bulkhead before tossing him to the ground, drawing the hilt of my energy blade.

"Timmy," The Human grunted, spinning around to face me while drawing his magnum. "Get someone up here, ASAP!"

I flung my arm in the air and snapped it down, activating the two blue ionized blades of my energy sword. I almost lost my energy sword when the Demon was captured during the mutiny, but the Human who had possession of it was easy to find after the mutineers surrendered. It still smelt of Human, but now it would be replaced with the more eager smell of Human blood.

The Human shot his magnum at me, but the bullets harmlessly reflected off of my reinforced energy shields – another welcomed modification by the Huragok.

I bought my blade to bare, and lunged at the Human who kicked out-of-the-way in an instance, bouncing back to his feet before sprinting down the hallway.

I went after him, ignoring the calls of my previous comrades who must had heard from the Associated Intelligence about my actions, and had decided to take it upon themselves to act in the Humans' favor. It was dreadful to know that those I would have once died for chose their loyalty with the Humans. I would not stand it. When the Covenant fell, I would make sure they died along with Humanity.

Bringing my blade to bare as I passed around another corner, I saw four Human warriors – including the spy – standing before me, weapons raise. These ones were the Imp convicts.

"Stand down," One of them – presumably the leader – told me. This one was the one who spoke words with Vale the previous night. This one thought that it could deceive Vale with his _personal tragedy. _How could Vale fall for such a trick?! He used to be wise. What changed?

Assessing my targets, I found it logical to strike down the one with the biggest weapon, and so I did. I feigned a lowering of my guard before charging forward, slicing down a Human that got in my way before slitting open the throat of the heavily armed Human, sending him flying to the ground, gagging as red blood oozed from his wound.

"_Fuck!_ Theo!" One of the Humans exclaimed. Ignoring the rounds hitting my shields, I spun around to find and kill their leader next; I would find personal enjoyment in this one's death. Before I could charge him, however, I felt one of the Humans jump onto my back and begin beating at my shields.

"Pathetic!" I snapped, pushing a Human that got too close back with a kick of my hoof before slamming my back into the bulkhead. By assessing the Humans around me, I discovered that the Human on my back was the spy. I would find a deep satisfaction in smashing him to death against the bulkhead.

He would be smashed as easily as a _Nishum._

"Up here!" I heard distant voices call – more Humans. Concluding that I was trapped – that, and my shields were failing – I bought my arms around and pulled the Human off of my back, pulled him around in front of me and swung my blade up to his throat just as more Humans appeared, accompanied by Vale.

Stoic as usual, his voice didn't betray the obvious shock when he spoke. "Thel, release the Human, now."

Seeing there was back up, one of the Humans went over to the ones whose throat I slit, kneeling next to him. The Other Humans kept their weapons up save the one who I sliced open while charging the heavily armed Human, who was limping over to a Human doctor, clutching his side that I gleefully cut open.

"NO!" I snapped back at Vale. "I'll sooner die then surrender; as is Sangheili customs – a fact you are keen to have lost."

"If we are comparing who is acting more closer to our standards, then know I am more than you." Vale crossed his arms as the Diverted all appeared, weapons raised at me as they formed up with the other Humans. "But redemption is nothing if not present."

I snarled at him. "I _will not _lay down my weapons for your Human masters! So, waste no further time and end my life, but I shall end many of yours first."

"What's your bargain!" One of the Human leaders questioned me.

I hadn't thought about that. There was nothing I desired... except... "When we exit the Void, I am to receive the ship and possession of the Monarch – no exceptions!"

One of the Humans scoffed while another answered. "Can't happen, split-chin; that AI's our best chance at ending this war-"

"For _you!_" I snapped, snarling at them to back off. "Not for the Sangheili race!" I turned my eyes to Vales, locking onto them. "If we do not act, the Humans will use the Monarch to find all technology in the galaxy and destroy us with it!"

I was so focused on the current events, I didn't stay focused to my motion detector. When Qrs' arm snapped around my blade arm and pulled it away for the Human spy to escape, that was when I knew all was doomed. I spun around to attack Qrs, who was now de-cloaking, but his fist met my face first, and I stumbled back onto the cold floor, disorientated.

"Disarm 'im and take 'im to the brig," One of the Human leaders told his subordinates. I could do nothing as my arms were held down and I was stripped of all my weapons before being hefted to my feet and escorted back down the corridor.

"I have plans," Vale told me, accompanying the Human warriors as they led me down the corridor. "And I'll see them enacted on to preserve our race in a peaceful manner."

I clicked my bleeding mandibles together, amused at Vale's words. "No, Vale. Humanity won't forget what we did to them. It may take a thousand years, but they will grind us to the ground given the chance. We can't give them that chance."

"Humanity will not be keen to enter another war after this one ends," He replied, stepping in beside me. "And if they do, I will know."

I shook my head. "It _won't _work how you believe it."

Vale didn't say another word, convinced that his words would do nothing to sway my mind. There was nothing but silence until we reached the brig, and I was thrown into a cell, the door locked behind me with twelve Sentinels forming up outside to watch me at all times.

Vale stood outside the cell and began his attempts to change my mentality.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>**

* * *

><p>"Thel," I said, beginning to pace outside his cell, "the current circumstances are dire. If we are to survive as a species, we need to collaborate with the Humans. You <em>are not <em>helping."

"Good," Thel hissed back. "I have only the desires to tamper this 'collaboration'. Humanity can't be trusted; I cannot understand why you cannot see this!"

I shook my head, convinced that no words of mine would reach his mind with an impact enough to turn the tide. "Because they _can _be trusted." I had my final word before leaving the brig, the sounds of Thel growling at the other Human prisoners to be silent lingering in my mind as I exited the dark section of the ship.

My main concern was to now check up on the wounded Humans. The Diverted were crushed emotionally by Thel's actions, but they would be fine. I was more concerned on the status of the Humans wounded in Thel's rage. One Human was already dead, and more adding to the number was unacceptable.

After further musing on how I could act on Thel's actions, I quickly arrived back at the corridor where the stand-off had occurred. The Human wounded by Thel's blade was being immediately tended to while the large Human that was held hostage was bandaged around the neck. Thel must had scratched his neck while gripping him. I was somewhat upset, but relieved that it was not worse. My main focus was on Adam Franti.

He seemed distraught.

I approached him whilst he watched two warriors lift the body of his comrade onto a medical cart and cover his body, handing Adam Franti an amulet that the dead warrior had around his neck. It must had been something symbolic to their warrior code.

"What are those?" I asked, cautious on the turf I treaded.

"Dog-tags," Adam Franti answered, trying to hide the emotion in his voice, but failing. The other two comrades were not so composed, and were tearing up as the body of their friend was moved away. "His name and ID are on them. We... we collect them from the dead... to return to the Corps."

"Thel will be punished," I assured him, grabbing his arm to get his attention. "But by _my _hands. I cannot have you going after him. Not you or any of your comrades."

Adam Franti snapped his arm back, glaring at me for my physical actions – which I instantly regretted. "We won't, you have my word – for what it's worth."

"I trust your word."

Adam Franti tightened his grip on his comrade's dog-tags before putting them in one of his "Pockets". "You're awfully trusting of one who was once your enemy."

"We're no longer enemies, though. And you have emphasized that you mean no vengeance on me," I repositioned myself so I was by his side. "And our species can only move on with trust."

I turned my gaze to the two Humans as they began consoling each other over their comrade's death, breaking down in front of everyone and hugging each other. Such emotions were never known in the Covenant military. All those who died would be seen again in paradise. Death was a reward. "Convicts in our race never become close to fellow convicts. I envy you."

"Not all of us were emotionless enough to not be friends," Adam replied, his tone composing itself. "Rick Cylus," He gestured to one of his comrades, "isn't even a criminal at all. He was framed by ONI, and had to suffer because of it."

"ONI? They're you espionage group, correct?"

Adam nodded. "Among other things. They're cold, and Rick had to suffer because of that trait. We all had to suffer because of them," He gestured over to the Human that had been cut opened by Thel. The Human had his wound bandaged up, and was consoling Rick Cylus. "Toless Morgan over there's suffered enough. He raped, murdered, and ate a large amount of young models. You'd think him to be crazy, but he's the most redeeming out of us. He knows what he did, and wants to do something in return for what he did. I don't know why, but he went from the quiet, isolated guy of the group to the most smartest."

Adam let out a sigh as he continued. "Theodore was a bit more complicated. He didn't regret what he did... but I found it justified."

"How so?" I asked.

"He massacred an entire town," Adam Franti said. "All save the children of the families. He always said he was inflicting justice on what was inflicted onto him, and I was inclined to agree," Adam Frati sniffed, quickly wiping away some tears that were forming in his eyes. "His family and him were basically held hostage by the town... The town... they were all apart of a religious brethren that indulged in torture. It sounds unbelievable, but it's true. I don't know how an entire town came to make up a religion related to that, and I don't care. I just like to think that the town was started up by Adam and Eve, but Adam and Eve were psychos, and their children followed suit."

"How did he escape?" I asked.

"He never did. Their customs include picking one family and torturing them for a year before picking another family. Strangely, the tortured families embraced this, and just went about it afterwards. Theo wasn't like that. No, he went on with his life, but secretly desired revenge. Years later, he went back and killed everyone," Adam Franti shrugged. "It's a bullshit story, and I can never decide whether it's true, or whether Theo made it up. It could be true..."

"Or false," I finished.

"Yeah. It's too stupid to be true, but Theo _never _lied to me about any of the other stuff he did before going back – and he did _a lot _of bad stuff – so I don't see why he would have lied here."

"The truth dies with him," I concluded.

Adam Franti nodded. "A lot died with him."

"What about you? Why were you convicted?" I questioned him, hoping I was not prying in something he desired to himself.

"After my family were killed, a squad of ODSTs insulted my dead family. They're assholes... that's all... They found a kick in getting negative reactions out of people..."

"You killed them," I concluded. "Family makes us do the most insane of actions. Whether you regret them or not, _they are _insane."

"You do something?" He asked.

"When penetrative scans told me my wife was going to give me a son... I was elated. But my wife died laying the egg that contained my son," I replied, my eyes lowering as the memory of what happened came to mind. "My wife had a rare disease that weakened her; she was already slated to die, and went on with the delivery on her own initiative. My son was branded an abomination, and had to die before he was even apart of the world in full lengths. I wouldn't kill him over superstition, but my servants didn't follow my ideology. My _own _personal guards held me down while my son was taken away and executed by the birth assistant. Subsequently, I had the guards and the birth assistant executed, and their organs and limbs decorated over my keep's walls," I shook my head, scolding myself at my past actions. "It's something I regret, and assassins hired by the families of those I ordered executed still hunt me to this day."

"They keep failing?" He asked.

I clattered my mandibles in an amused motion. "Always. I myself would make a good assassin, so, of course I would succeed against assassins."

"You'd make a good assassin?" He urged me on. It was an old memory, but if it diverted his mind from his dead comrade, then I didn't mind shedding light on the memory.

"In our culture, our leaders are known as Kaidons. If a Kaidon is elected by the council of Elders, and he is deemed unfit, one can order an assassination on him. If the assassination fails, the one who ordered it is executed along with his family. If the assassin succeeds, the one who hired the assassin is hailed as a hero. One such Kaidon was elected but no assassin came for his head. I knew the Kaidon was weak, and I couldn't let him rule our State. So, I took actions into my own hands. I was not an Elder, so no assassin would except my contract, but I never asked. If I wanted someone dead, I was going to take his own life."

Taking a few moments to muse on what happened next, I continued. "I was a Minor at the time; a simple warrior. He was a Zealot; he was a skilled warrior who had taken many lives. Although he knew I was coming, I managed to beat him, and executed him, grovelling, in front of the entire Elder council. I was deemed wiser than them all for discovering one so weak, and commended as a fine Sangheili... Many Elders expressed enthusiasm towards my future, and believed me to quickly become a Elder, then quicker, a Kaidon. Two more weak Kaidons came into power in the next thirty cycles, and despite assassins being contracted against them, I still took the liberty of assassinating the Kaidons myself – risking my own life."

I shook my head, amused at how I played it out. "Both times when I assassinated the Kaidons, I stayed in the room until the assassins arrived mere units later. Upon seeing the body, the assassins would curse me and leave. The second time was the same assassins, and they were less than pleased to see me again, but left nonetheless," I clattered my mandibles, almost laughing as I continued. "The Kaidon's personal guards weren't surprised to see me the next time, and simply said 'oh, young Vale assassinated another one'." I let out an amused huff.

"Your politics sound fun." Adam Franti remarked, chuckling at the story I had just shared with him.

"I admit, I found entertainment in exploiting certain superstitions and making a mockery out of them. But I started to have to act professional as Elders started supporting my efforts to become alike them. Not long after becoming an Elder, I was voted in as Kaidon, and never forcefully removed – peacefully removing being an impossibility as no Kaidon ever gave up their position. Not to my surprise, no assassins were ever contracted against me."

"You looking forward to going back to it?" Adam Franti asked.

I shook my head. "I'm looking forward to leading my State forward in evolution. Despite the violence of political matters amusing me, I need to bring them forward. Whether I like it or not, your race is far more civilized than mine, and I would like to take inspiration from your own politics."

Adam Franti laughed at that. "Do yourself a favor, and don't judge our politics so easily. Our politics are anything _but_ stable."

"I know of your rebels," I said. "And rebels always come about out of political disagreement. I have no doubt your politics aren't perfect, but they're better than my own races, and if I can just take the good out of it an implement it into my own State's political system, then I have the potential chance of advancing my race."

I noticed Skae in the background, still watching me. I concluded it best to ignore the apparition, but it was hard. He always stood there, his eyes shaped as if he were judging. I had the amusing thought that it might had been better if they designed Minor armor to have a helmet that covered their eyes, that way I wouldn't have to see Skae's eyes judging me.

I simply put the thought aside. What judging I get from a ghost of my mind was well-deserved. Adam Franti noticed my shift of attention, and remained silent. Like me, he saw the dead, and he understood the importance of having some vital moments to muse on what you saw.

"Not long ago, I would have had to kill you," I told Adam Franti.

"Not wanting to now?"

I shook my head. "No. You may be Human, but I find you more decent than three quarters of the Sangheili I've encountered. They were aggressive, cruel, and so on by nature. You—you have a past that gives an excuse to your aggressive behavior, and despite the circumstances of it, I find your past intriguing."

"Likewise. Your tales are kinda fun to listen to as well."

I couldn't help but allow my mandibles to form into a grin. Thel was wrong; Humans were not blinded by mundane things as superstition, honor, codes, religion – not all of them, at least. But while so many Sangheili allowed themselves to be blinded – the members of my fleet included – Humans had the tendency of questioning everything. While questioning could be considered bad in their society, it was a blessing. Questioning everything was the source of having a healthy society.

At that moment, as Adam Franti walked off to be with his two friends, I started raising questions about everything I could conceive. I quickly found answers to most questions, but many still remained unanswered.

The main question I had was what to do with Thel. He wouldn't listen to reason, and harbored a danger towards everyone.

If worse came to worse, I would have to kill him.


	43. Late Nights

****(Courtney Jsarez)****

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[November 17, 2547]****

****[TIME]********-********[0643 – Standard Military Time]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite's**_****** Captain's Quarters, Slip-Space]****

* * *

><p>A week was the estimated time of traversal, and a week had passed. Riding it out was present, but the horses pissed off more than once. Without beating around the bushes, it would be a correct assumption for anyone to believe my week to have been tough.<p>

After the events with the Hybrids and 'Lodam, fucked-up occurrences _were_ minimal. Save a few violent outbursts from Brian Davis and having to shift each member of Fireteam Location and Hazard to individual cells after Alex Giles was beaten to death in the communal cell they were all placed in, things had developed relatively smoothly.

Red was worried about Larson. He'd confined himself to the armory, only ever speaking with Lighter Than Some and his Grunt friend, Yoplap. The Monarch had contact with him as well, and told me that he was upset that the corpses of the dead Hybrids were in cryo for use as another bargaining chip against ONI, and wanted me to speak to T'Rakas about proper funeral rights in their culture.

I wasn't planning on speaking to T'Rakas. The Hybrid had apparently hidden himself in a maintenance tunnel, only appearing for food and nothing more. So far, when he was spotted, he seemed relativity normal for someone who had just murdered off his entire race. This led to the theory by the Monarch and Fleighted Fire that the Gravemind was keeping a tight hold on T'Rakas' mind to prevent the Hybrid from committing suicide – a theory that the Gravemind confirmed not long after it was established.

'Lodam was still being held in the brig, and wasn't getting released anytime soon. From what I heard, 'Sarasee had been visiting 'Lodam each day in an attempt to cool the insane Elite down, but hadn't made any progress. Night was pissed, but it was only Rick and Toless who were out for blood; Adam straight out acted like 'Lodam didn't exist.

Night hadn't made any moves to kill 'Lodam, and I didn't think they ever would, so worrying about them was futile.

So, it may had been smooth running, but tensions were high, and the week had so far made me want to _get _high. On the bright side, Jeffery King had exited his shell-shocked stage, and was beginning to talk to the docs. He was remorseful over the mutiny and pretty shaken up by his buddies' death, but was functioning enough to _not_ be a vegetable.

A lot of Marines had recovered from the mutiny. Not many suffered wounds that had them bed-ridden save Tom Harvad who was now out and about, performing his tasks and participating in PT.

One of the most exciting, though – for me personally – was Dean's own recovery. The already advanced medical equipment on the _Kryptonite _was only amplified by some recovered Forerunner tech that gave his medical treatment the extra boost that it needed. His vocal reconstruction was finished, and he had recovered enough that eating and drinking no longer killed his throat, and he could talk without so much as a scratchy sensation in his throat.

The most exciting event, though, had to have been the arrival of the next day. It'd be the day the ship arrived at the random slip-space vector, and we would enter the coordinates for Earth. Things were getting close, and tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

To celebrate, Lynda managed to convince to me invite Dean around for dinner again. I enjoyed the previous dinner, so I had no reasons to decline. Dean was apparently looking forward to it – according to Timmy who I may or may not had spy on Dean – and was desperately searching for any left-over wine from the Marine Corps' birthday party.

Supplies were low, so dinner would be rather standard; MREs. I at least hoped Dean would find some wine to spice the night up, and my hopes were answered when Hauver offered us wine from his own stash – something I would've had him court-martialed for, if I gave a shit.

I could've used the wine, too. Earlier in the day the Gravemind exploded into rage, sending an unimaginable amount of pain through Red's and my head. I thought we did something wrong, but it reassured us that it wasn't anything to do with us, and the pain was only being emitted off of _it_.

It still didn't answer our questions as to why it got so pissed, but it said it didn't know itself, stating that it would have a clearer answer once we exited slip-space tomorrow. But from what _I _picked up by its rage when the pain inflicted, it wasn't anything good. It kept going on about how something wasn't right. The words "A billion screams of my children" were just some of its riddled words that stood out.

It was rather a shame, too. The Gravemind did a total one-eighty on its attitude earlier in the week, and gave Red information on each and every one of his alters – something he was going to talk to Joyce about tonight. The Grivemind's personality changed. It seemed... calmer, of sorts. It told me and Red that it felt like it had evolved years in progression, but it was just one of its own theories.

Now it did _another _one-eighty, and became a total asshole again. Not as big an asshole as before for some reason, but still an asshole. It wasn't planning on deterring Red's meeting with Joyce later on, but it wasn't overly pleased that it opened up about the alternative personalities.

So, despite having a killer headache for the good part of a couple of hours, the day had been pretty standard so far – save the Gravemind's odd attitude. Oh, and what Lynda was currently submitting me to.

"...Lynda-"

Lynda put her hands on my lips to stop me from protesting. "Shut up, and look." She pointed to the giant dick of a pornstar on one of the pages of the porno mag she was showing me.

Lynda arrived about an hour early for dinner, and I decided to tell her about my talk with Joyce, and how I decided to move on with my sex paranoia, and try to evolve fully from my raping at the hands – and dick – of Eric.

The first thing she did was suggest about a dozen dating sites before disappearing and returning with a porno mag that she had on-board the ship. Now she thought she'd give me a few tips on what men like, and I had no choice but to listen to her.

"Now, boys like this big boy with his even bigger boy are hard to come by," She began, stroking the picture of the pornstar's dick in a disturbing manner. "Usually cocks like this are reserved for pornstars like Robert here, but you'll come across one sooner or later."

She turned another page to reveal another picture of this Robert. "But it's hard to come across a guy like this because you can't really know the size of their cocks until you get them into bed, and by then, it's too late."

I rolled my eyes, hoping to God that she was just fucking with me. "It's easy for the guys, though," Lynda continued. "they can tell how big our tits are easily, but we can't tell the size of their cocks because the damn things come in two sizes."

"Lynda," I finally spoke up, trying to not be somewhat aroused by Robert's manhood. "I honestly don't care about the size of their dick-"

"You should."

I groaned. "Well, I _don't._"

"Oh..." Lynda closed the magazine and put it back onto my bed that we were both sitting on. "I see! You're afraid the bigger the size, the more _Red _will complain."

My jaw dropped. "I never thought of that!"

Lynda chuckled. "Share the love, Courtney."

"Ma'am," Timmy's voice appeared over the room's intercoms – thankfully stopping Lynda from continuing. "Captain Dean White has arrived and is waiting outside."

Lynda quickly grabbed the magazine and put it into one of the draws of my nightstand before waving for me to answer.

"Let him in, Timmy." I said, getting up off my bed and heading over to the kitchen table and taking a seat just as the door opened.

Dean walked in, two bottles of wine named after some French guy in his arms. He calmly went over to the kitchen bench, placing the bottles down while Lynda went over to the bench as well to prepared the MREs.

Dean was wearing that deodorant again as a joke... at least, I hoped it was a joke.

I thought on how a relationship with me and Dean would work. I often theorized on it, but always put it off, not wanting to start a relationship with someone out of trust issues. But now, a relationship with Dean _might_ have worked.

He was a nice guy, and had a personality I admired, but I didn't think it possible. If we arrived at Earth and managed to escape Parangosky's wrath, things wouldn't be easy for any of us. If he managed to remain a Marine, he would likely be reassigned, or if we had to go on the run from ONI, things would be anything but normal.

Now wasn't the time to have been thinking about any of that stuff. While the thoughts came into my mind, I dismissed them. I still also had problems with finding the courage to think about how the next big step would occur. Despite wanting to move on, the thought of sex _still_ scared me.

Lynda jokingly suggested that I try other females, but like her, I didn't go that way. I found the thought of sex between another female to be more awkward than the thought of sex with a male.

Dean placed a glass of wine in front of me and took a seat opposite me, glass of wine in his own hands. "How's Red?" Dean asked, taking sip of his wine. I analyzed his voice, being somewhat put-off by the slight metallic sound to it. His voice was already strong before his throat was cut open, and it was only worse now.

I came around to like it, though. It matched his hard, tough appearance. But it would still take some getting used to.

"Good," I answered. "He's having a tough time getting his head around all the identities of the alters, but he's fine, otherwise."

"No surprises," Dean remarked, taking another drink of his wine as I did. "From what _I _can tell by hanging out with him, he's dealing with it rather well – exterior wise, anyway."

I shook my head. "He's not so composed when he's around me. Trust me, he's taking this _real _hard."

Recently, both me and Red had began sharing my bed at night. It was a tight fit with the bed only being single, but it only meant that we were closer. It was reminiscent of when we were younger and used to sleep with each other. Being so close to each other felt like we were one, and it was a feeling I overly enjoyed. Red would often speak his mind, telling me about his past as a SPARTAN and how he was coping with everything while we both laid there.

"I have no doubt," Dean replied to my earlier words, scratching at stitches around his throat, but quickly stopping. "but I'm a bit worried. He spends a lot of time around us, and in turn, spends a lot of time concealing his emotions. I'm worried he may explode and do something he'll. He's already talking about 'Lodam a lot, and I'm afraid he'll try to kill him."

I nodded, acknowledging his warnings. "Timmy's already mentioned this, but a third-party warning's reinforced that I _need_ to keep a closer eye on him," I leaned forward, folding my hands over the table. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you watch over him. Like I said: He's in a _real _bad place right now, and I can't be watching over him twenty-four/seven, and there's only so much Timmy can do. So, if he mentions 'Lodam again, take his mind away from it, please."

Dean nodded. "Of course, I'll keep an eye on him."

"You better," Lynda smacked him across the head, coming over to join us while the MREs heated up. "You piss off my girl, you piss off _me_."

"You didn't have to smack me." Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his head where Lynda smacked him.

"No, but I did," Lynda smirked, grabbing her wine glass and taking a large gulp before putting it down and going back to check the food.

Lynda had recovered from her break-down during the Marine birthday party rather smoothly. She felt really bad for what she said about the Corps, and made rounds to apologize to each and every Marine. She left Hauver till last, and I had the suspicion that they slept with each other, but I wouldn't raise it in case it upset her, and I'd just let her be instead. If she was better, I wasn't going to do anything that risked changing that.

Dean started grunting, clearing his throat of mucus. He looked terrible, but was putting on a brave face. He hadn't complained about what happened; it could had been _a lot _worse – it was only Red's quick hands that saved his ass.

Red was pretty worked-up about what happened. He knew the Elite that attacked Dean was going to attack, but he hoped that after 'Lodam explained their stupid Great Journey, the Elite would reconsider. The damned thing was considering it, then attacked out of nowhere, taking even the Gravemind off guard.

After a lot of reassurance that he wasn't at fault, Red finally calmed down, and Timmy had observed no more avoidance of Dean from Red. He was as brave as any SPARTAN, but he was also a complete sook.

"That's right," Dean muttered, running his hand along the stitches at his throat. "your brother owes me a drink."

"Helps if you jarheads don't drink it all." I mumbled.

"Captain, a word of advice: Don't ever deny a Marine his right of I and I."

"I and I?" I questioned.

"Intoxication and intercourse," Dean clarified, adding, "the two big I and Is of the big R and R."

"White, shut it," Lynda smacked him over the head while serving up the MREs. "she'll try to work out what you're saying and hurt herself."

"Bitch." I muttered under my breath.

"Yeah, White, you're a bitch." Lynda smirked, bringing over our plates and placing them in front of us. Lynda then took a seat next to me and immediately hoed into her food.

Before I could dish in, I notice the figure suddenly appearing. I would normally ignore it, but the addition of a little girl holding its deformed hands was beginning to grab my attention.

_(This is a statement. That same young one is the infant you first witnessed in the elevator, and has continued to evolve with each passing day. It is also one of the alters of your sibling, and has evolved as this semblance of her has been evolving. An alter should not be able to evolve unless they are the main; that rule does not apply to this one.)_

My heart-beat quickened as the Gravemind told me this, but I managed to calm myself down before Timmy took notice. The Gravemind's elaboration hit me hard; there was nothing natural with what was happening, and I started to fear that perhaps the figure was also one of Red's alters. _(Be at ease. You theory is false.) _I listened to the Gravemind, and relaxed.

My muscles tensing seemed to had gone unnoticed by Lynda and Dean, so I took the opportunity, and didn't waste anytime in gorging into the food. Once it realized that I wasn't falling for its bullshit, the figure disappeared, taking the girl with him.

"Damn, this shit just grows on you," Lynda said, taking a sip of her wine. "You just go from hating this shit to loving it."

"Not me," Dean replied. "I still hate MREs to this day."

Lynda flashed Dean a glare. "_True _Marines don't hate MREs. This chow keeps your heart healthy and your balls strong-"

"Why do you like it then?" Dean asked her.

"Huh?"

Dean took a sip of his wine before continuing. "Well, you obviously don't have a heart, and while you have balls, you don't have physical balls-"

"_One_ more word," Lynda snapped. "and you won't either!"

"This is what you get for eating with a bunch of groundpounders." I grumble to myself.

"And you wonder why we and the swabbies keep our distance," Dean smiled. "mentality dictates which factions you choose."

"Not for me-"

Lynda broke me off. "Yeah, you joined the Navy to find Red. Worked out well, didn't it."

I glared at her. "Supposedly. But now I have the fate of all Humanity in my hands."

"You over dramatize it," Lynda took a bite of her food before adding, "plus, it's in _Timmy's _hands. He's the one who's piloting this piece of shit."

"Thank you for your appreciation," Timmy said over the intercom. "it really means a lot. Too many crew members often forget how important I am for their survival, and how I could kill you all if I wanted... a figure of speech, of course."

"...Yeah." I hoped that the AI just had a sense of humor, and wasn't dumb enough to reveal his plans to kill us all – or hint at it, take it or leave it.

I took another, longer sip from my wine. Since the strong taste of wine was dying down, I began to take longer sips from it. I hadn't even finished my meal and I was already up to my second glass. _(Human indulgence irritates me.) _The Gravemind was just pissed that it was getting drunk because of me.

Even after a glasses, I was starting to get tipsy. That was Hauver for you; he always liked the strong stuff. About another four glasses would have me out, but it wasn't going to come to that. Last thing I needed was to look like an idiot in front of my best friend and another person who may or may not be considered a friend by me.

"I'll be honest and say that I'm glad Red didn't reprogram Timmy's entire personality," Lynda said. "Now he's just a blunt asshole with a mild sense of humor. Did Red add that?"

"No, that was the Engineer," Timmy answered, his voice echoing through my small room. "It followed Sierra-098's orders, but added up its own touch. It apparently didn't like me when I told it to get out of the ship's systems when it peeked about in them."

"Karma in the shape of a floating, fart-smelling ball-shack," I remarked, a slight slur in my speech. "The Universe, ladies and gentlemen!"

I chugged down the rest of my wine, pouring another glass. The stuff was so good that I completely forgot that I put restraints on how much I was to drink. Before I knew it, my head was getting more and more tipsy, and the words exiting my mouth got more and more bizarre. There was a sliver lining: Both Dean and Lynda were just as drunk, so what left _their _mouths was just as bad.

I didn't really remember anything after my fourth glass. All I remembered is that our talking turned to terrible jokes and stories that were meant to be funny, but failed miserably. Oh, and I kind of remembered Lynda passing out after drinking too much, leaving me and Dean alone.

I figured it would go without saying that I would _never _drink more than two glasses of any wine at any time _ever _again.

* * *

><p><strong><span>(Campbell Joyce)<span>**

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]-[November 17, 2547]**

**[TIME]-[0930 – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ****_Kryptonite, _Psychologist Office]**

* * *

><p><em>Hissing, <em>the door to my office opened, Red arriving right on time – SPARTAN accuracy.

It had been a big day, and I was more than a little tired, but part of my day being big was all the appointments I had. Having so much to tend to meant that I had to put aside time for Red, and after calculating when a good time would be, I established that late at night was all I had. Red needed to speak to me pronto, so he accepted what was available.

The time must have had an effect on Red as well because he almost tumbled over while getting into the chair opposite my own.

"You alright?" I asked him as he slumped back into the cushioned chair.

"Yep." He said. Judging by the slight slur in is word, I'd guess he had been drinking. This reassured me that he was getting into his more social roots as he had told me during the Marine Corps' birthday party that he didn't drink, and wasn't planning on.

There was one thing that stroke me as odd, and that was where he and the Marines he drank with found the booze after it had all been consumed during the party nearly a week ago.

Keeping an eye on him, I pulled out my datapad and stylus from my coat's pockets.

Gripping my datapad in one hand and my stylus in another, I bought up Red's file, opening the report on his alters. The Gravemind had told Red about each and every one of his alters, and I was eager to hear about them all. I hoped there wouldn't be many, but that remained to be seen.

"How've you been?" I asked, trying to maintain social courtesy even if Red didn't like it.

"Good," Red replied, still slurring slightly, but remaining focused. "Well, my head's spinning around like a merry-go-round and I'm feeling awfully energetic, but good's the correct term, I believe."

"That's good," I replied, scolding myself at the pun. "Okay, we have Juridical, 098 and Manson. How many more are there?"

"Three. I'll start with Ava. Now, she's a kicker," Red leaned forward. "According to the Gravemind, she's the little girl me and Courtney have been seeing with the figure," I wrote what he'd just told me down as he continued. "She started out as a baby, but has been evolving a year each day despite not being the main personality, and is being broadcasted as a figure that both me and Na- Courtney can see. What do you make of that?"

I could hardly believe it. This contradicted a lot of concepts known to scientists. How come this alter could age so fast – let alone age with only just being an alter? "I'm not sure," I admitted, resting my datapad on my lap. "I might get a better idea if you told me how Ava came to be."

Red's eyes lowered, his gaze meeting the floor. "...She... um," Despite their angle, I saw sadness suddenly appear in Red's eyes. "I think she was created out of regret... She... I _swear_ she looks like a girl who was killed when I... when 098 murdered the family that owned the pet store on Reach..."

"You don't have to continued," I waved for Red to stop, knowing that this alter was too painful for him to speak of at the moment. "We can skip her if need be. I've already got an idea on her triggers, and I might be able to learn a bit more from your sister, so you don't have to continue."

"Thanks," Red nodded, rubbing his chin as he mused on the next alter. "Next up is Alexander. He's a bit of a fun one. 098 had his flaws, no surprises, and one flaw was one that his mind couldn't handle. 098 strove to be perfect leader, but just wasn't one. Eventually, he just straight out began to deny such thoughts, and that's when Alexander was created. This alter's awesome in my mind** – **no pun. He's created out of 098's need to become an effective leader."

I took notes as Red continued. "Whenever he was at a briefing with his team, Alexander would come in control and take charge of planning the operation and establishing battlefield tactics and plans."

I got the reference in the alter's name, and smiled at its meaning. "Over time," Red added. "098 began to suppressed the alters which meant suppressing Alexander, of course."

"Do you know what his trigger is?" I asked.

Red nodded. "I'd say he'll appear when a mission briefing is happening. Neither me or 098 – or any of the other personalities, for that matter – are skilled with leadership and tactics. That's where Alexander comes in handy."

"What is he like personality wise?" I asked, writing down everything he had just told me onto my datapad.

"Well – and this is coming from the Gravemind – he's meant to be focused and intelligent. He's not social, and isn't afraid to send troops to their death, but won't do so unless he is certain that their sacrifices will turn the tide. He's calm in all situations, and won't snap under pressure. Again, this is just what the Gravemind's said, but I'm pretty sure it was telling the truth."

I finished writing down all he told me. "I'm going to take a hunch and say that Alexander is not going to be a problem. His triggers are rare, and his personality is stable," I turned my attention from my datapad back to Red. "Who's the last one?"

"Xavier Walker. Like with Manson, his name's random. Unlike Manson, though, he's a lot more stable and less violent. He's also intriguing in my mind."

"How so?"

"When 098 first took control, he struggled intellectually. 098 was more the physical combat genius, but he had a hard time with educational teachings."

"And Xavier was created for 098's lack in educational skills." I concluded.

Red nodded. "Yes. Xavier Walker's quiet, being an alter created by 098, and extremely smart. Like Alexander, he's focused, but will likely just resort to studying when triggered. I wouldn't think him a threat, and he'll only appear during times when I read a book... yeah..."

I smiled. "So it's just 098 and Manson that need to be watched carefully. Ava, too. Alexander, Juridical and Xavier Walker should all be fine," I folded my hands. "And the triggers are all pretty much figured out, so you just need to keep an eye out on what happens around you, and you should be fine."

"Did you wanna talk to any?" Red asked.

I shook my head, sending the report on the session to the Captain's datapad. "I don't think that's necessary at the moment. We have everything under wraps, and me talking to the alters exceeds the parameters of my job. I can get court-martialed for going any further."

"And you won't already?" Red smiled.

I rubbed my sore eyes, needing some sleep. "I can always hope."

Red got out of his seat. "Well, yeah, but it sucks when your hopes get squashed by some shitty change of events. Anyway, I'll let you get some rest."

"Thanks."

Red gave me a farewell nod as he left, the doors _hissing _close behind him.

Stretching, I left my chair and entered my sleeping quarters that was built off of my office. I stretched after entering the room, pulling off my coat and letting it fall to the ground. Cracking my neck, I then put my datapad on my night stand before falling into my bed, not worrying about changing into more suitable clothing.

My eyes instantly closed, and I drifted off to sleep. Sleep, however, was oft a painful realm for me.

Distant explosions and other sounds of battle rocked my sleep. There was other sounds, too; the roars of a Pelican's engines.

"Daddy!" My son pointed to the Pelican that had just blown apart a Banshee with its turrets.

"I see it!" I reassured him, putting him onto the ground to hail the Pelican.

"HEY!" I shouted, waving both my arms in the air. The possibilities of me yelling and flailing my arms grabbing their attention was low, but it was a widely accepted course of action that had the potential of catching the eyes of a pilot. I was also on top of a skyscraper – the designated rally point for civilians who missed or couldn't get to the EVAC zones. This Pelican was certainly told to keep an eye on the roofs of structures for survivors.

"OVER HERE!" I continued to shout. I didn't even consider my shouting and yelling to attract the attention of the Covenant. The stairwells to the roof of the skyscraper I was on was being guarding by an entire Army Platoon. Despite this, however, the pressure of the Covenant ground forces must had been too much, and they began to break through.

Being too focused on the Pelican, the Grunt Lance did something unusual. They used stealth. Granted, these Grunts were being led by a Grunt Ultra, so superior tactics may had been known to it. Regardless, I didn't notice they were behind us until I heard the screams of my son.

"DADDY!" He screamed, making me snap around. "HELP ME!" He screamed, being dragged back by a huge Grunt Ultra.

Before I could react, a green plasma round smashed into my chest, making me drop to the ground. The pain as my flesh melted away was unbearable, but I managed to spin myself around to face my son. I tried crawling over, but the pain was too much, and my strength left me.

"DADDY!" My son screamed as the massive Grunt Ultra snapped my son's arm back, making his elbow joint bones rip through his flesh.

My son's blood-curdling screams killed me, and only made me try to move more, but the pain was too much; the shock of being shot and what I was seeing taking its toll on me. I couldn't move, but only watch.

The massive Grunt then grabbed the bloodied bone of my son and tore it back, ripping his arm apart and making my son scream as loud as his little lungs could allow. He was no longer screaming for me to save him, but now just screaming in pain.

The Grunts let out amused yelps as a Minor pulled out a _Human _knife that it must had scavenged from a dead Army soldier, and began cutting into my son's leg, cleaving away the flesh and muscle from his bone before stamping on his newly exposed leg bone, shattering it.

My son went into shock afterwards, and lost conscious. The shock on me, however, didn't make it end. Unable to move, I watched as the Grunt Ultra broke his limps until bones ripped through his skin and used its strength to pull the bone around in the flesh. There was hardly a small boy left afterwards, just a mutilated corpse and a massive puddle of blood.

Bored with my son, the Grunts turned their attention to me, yapping excitingly. They went quiet as an Elite Major came up onto the roof via the stairwell, searching for its Lance. Upon seeing the mess its Grunts made, its eyes met mine. It didn't show any visible expression of hatred towards me, and instead marched over to its panicking Grunts and pulled out the hilt of his energy sword, swinging its arm up into the air and quickly bringing it down, making the blue blade of the energy sword appear.

Enraged, the Elite roared as it cut apart the Ultra, decapitating the Grunt before going after the Minors, grabbing one around the throat and crushing its windpipe next before dropping it and rushing after the others.

My body must had seen the chance, and recovered enough to get me moving. Despite the pain of melting flesh, I managed to get myself up onto my feet, almost tumbling a few times. By then, the Elite had finished off the Grunts, and had turned to face me.

Adrenaline kicked in, and I sprinted to the edge of the roof, looking down to see that I somehow received a large dosage of luck. The window of an apartment just one floor down was open. Crawling over the edge, I dropped down to the edge of the building. Being an apartment block, the windows had ledges for residents to put plants and other decor possessions on.

I managed to squeeze through the window, ignoring the pain in my chest and heart, trying my best to ignore the images of my son's death that was fresh in my mind. After entering the apartment room, luck abandoned me, and I passed out from blood loss. Somehow, I survived, waking up the next morning aboard a frigate that was on course to a random vector before heading to Earth. From what I learned, the Platoon guarding the skyscraper I was in wasn't completely wiped out, and a Squad of soldiers managed to rescue me and get me to their EVAC Pelican on the roof I had just came escaped from.

Dreaming about the events of that day made me wake up and sit up in my bed, panting with sweat dripping all over me.

"Are you all right, doctor?" Timmy asked me over the room's intercoms.

"Not really, but I'll manage." I replied, wiping sweat from my forehead.

"Do you need me to get someone?" Timmy asked.

"No," I laid back on my bed, still panting. "I don't have anyone that I can need."

Timmy left it at that, and I quickly drifted off to sleep not long after. My mind then decided not to inflict pain on itself, and didn't make me dream about my son's death again... for the night, anyway.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>**

Got a few issues that need addressing.

First off: Thanks go out to The Constitutionalist who pointed out some more typos. Dude, I want your eyes (o_0)

Second: Startart123 has raised concerns about Thel 'Lodam's fate. Granted, I spoiled what would happen with him during the present timeline, but not completely. As far as you guys know, 'Lodam steals a ship and pisses off, but it's so much more complicated than that. I know I still have the element of surprise, so I'll do my best to take everyone off-guard. The reasons why I _even_ mentioned where Thel is in the present timeline chapters is because it's a big thing for our characters, and it made sense that they would bring it up every now and again. If a family member died, wouldn't you talk about it every now and again?

Regardless, I won't be doing a flashback narrative _ever _again. I'll blame it on a rookie mistake.

The next chapter should be out relatively soon as I was planning on it being a part of this one, but broke it into two after it exceeded my maximum of two POV shifts in a single chapter. So, I've already got a lot of it written up already.

Please leave a review telling me what you think while also pointing out any typos or lore mistakes I made as I consider myself a perfectionist. Also, I don't think an author has enough confidence in his work, so if you can express your opinions on what I've done, I'd be really grateful. Reviews are desired, but not necessary. Plus, it's good to know if people are still sticking around, that way I won't kill their character off because they left -_-


	44. Paradox

****(Courtney Jsarez)****

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[November 18, 2547]****

****[TIME]********-********[0612 – Standard Military Time]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite's**_****** Captain's Quarters, Slip-Space]****

* * *

><p>It'd been a long time since I had a hangover, and I stupidly remembered the reason why that was.<p>

My eyes felt heavy, and my head felt like it was being chewed on by a dog; a very pissed off dog. But, reluctantly, I opened the crusty holes in my head.

I immediately snapped them shut upon seeing a naked Dean lying next to me, uncomfortably close due to my bed being a single, and eyes closed as he slept. After a quick assessment of the situation and all possible sources to it, I came to the conclusion that I fucked him.

The conclusion hit me hard, and I began to feel nauseous, and it wasn't my hangover causing it. I had just been involved in sexual intercourse when I was only beginning to come around to the idea of moving on from Eric, and I was at a loss.

I was in a situation that I couldn't get around, and the outcome was something _not _preferable and unavoidable.

Deep inside the twisted husk known as "My body", I secretly had the ambition that me and Dean would somehow start some type of relationship. He was a gorgeous guy with a kind personality. But now I ruined those chances, and I doubted that I could had ever been able to sit down and talk to him ever again. The thoughts that would go through our minds if the circumstances occurred would leave our perspective on each other _dry._

The situation only worsened when I carefully turned around in my bed and saw that Lynda was passed out on my floor. As if it couldn't get better, Dean's morning wood began poking my ass, and my body began to act on its own. Fucking body.

Another harrowing thought came to mind. Panicking, I ran my fingers along my breasts, quickly finding the sticky stain on them that I was looking for. Clearly he wasn't brain-dead enough to _not_ pull-out.

That was one situation down, now I had to deal with the next one.

I carefully sat up, looking away as I lifted the blanket over Dean's naked body. I still couldn't remember the actual intercourse, and not remembering _those _parts would only increase the already dim positive outcomes of this. Hey, if you're gonna fuck up, make sure you're drunk!

It would've had to happen sooner or later, but even so, my heart began beating at an incredible rate when I heard Dean moving around, and I quickly pulled the blankets up to my breast, my face reddening like I was sun-baking back on Arcadia.

Dean let out a yawn, but stopped dead and let out a groan of realization.

"...Captain?"

I didn't turn to face him, more embarrassed than I had ever been before. "Yeah?" I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Court- Captain," He began panicking, pushing himself against the wall that my bed was leaning up against, trying desperately to put space between us. "I whole-heartily wouldn't have done this to you if I were sober, so trust me when I say that _I _was drunk, too."

"De-"

"It may not change anything," He continued, ignoring me. I heard him swallow a lump in his throat. "...but... just know that I pride myself in being a good person, and this _isn't_ like me."

"I'm _not _mad at you," I said as he took a break between sentences. "we do a lot of things when we're drunk."

"Ma'am," Timmy's voice appeared, and I tensed up, hoping Lynda wouldn't wake up at the sound of his voice. "may be so bold as to insert the addition of my own recounting of last night's sexual intercourse?"

I would had shrugged if I wasn't keeping the blanket close to my chest. "Sure, can't get any worse."

"Captain White displayed no violent or any other acts of domination during your intoxicated intercourse. If I may, I will elaborate."

"Go ahead." I shook my head at the thought of what we were about to hear. Timmy was blunt, so he wouldn't refrain from being as explicit as possible.

"During intercourse, you asked Captain White to shift his sexual position so that anal penetration would be possible," My muscles tensed as Timmy recounted what happened. "Upon a few thrusts, you asked Captain White to cease."

That made sense. When Eric raped me, he anally penetrated me. I guessed it gave him some feel of dominance, and it wouldn't be a surprise if my logic sense shone through, and demanded for me to stop when White was doing it. The fact that he _did _stop baffled me.

"Captain White immediately ceased," Timmy continued. "and you then took the reins of the intercourse. In more common words, you were in control."

Even when Dean was drunk, his sense remained with him, and he didn't drunkenly do anything without my consent. Was something even like that or similar even possible? You sorta lost your mind when you were drunk, and if he was drunk enough to unwillingly bed me, then why wasn't he drunk enough to do what he pleased?

"That still doesn't change anything," Dean addressed Timmy. "I'm still never going to get drunk off my ass again... and..." Dean let out a sigh before muttering, "I've lost a friend."

He was taking this hard, and it needed to be addressed immediately. "Close your eyes." I told Dean.

"Huh?"

"There's certain circumstances that occur which warrant facing each other to speak. _This, _is one of those times. Close your eyes so I can get dressed."

"They're closed." Dean said, and I quickly got out of my bed, slipping on my bra and underpants before pulling on my Captain fatigues, pulling up the zipper that was lucky enough not to have been broken the night before when we were probably at it, tearing each others' clothes off.

Keeping my eyes trained on the door of my quarters rather than the bed that was behind me, I addressed Dean. "Your turn."

Dean pulled the blankets off of him and got out of bed, pulling on his own clothing before sitting back down on the bed. "Okay, I'm decent." He told me, and I turned, sitting down on the bed, next to him.

"We're not going to stop being friends," I said. "You're too much of a good person to let go over something so... insignificant."

Dean rubbed his forehead, clearly distressed. Even his reconstructed voice had a distressed tone. The voice wasn't entirely synthetic, so he still had control over the emotions that would go into the words he spoke. "This isn't insignificant, Cap... Courtney; not for me."

"Dean-"

"I've done something-"

"Dean-"

He continued to ignore me. "-that goes against everything I've made myself out to be. I've seen and done things that would break a normal person, but I always moved on... sorta, anyway. But _this... _I'm not going to move on from this. I feel like I betrayed you."

"You didn't betray me." I reassured him, resisting the urge to grab his shoulder.

He wiped some tears that were swelling up away from his eyes. "You were _raped. _You don't recover from things like that. Your file says that you are in no relationship, so I assumed you couldn't handle the idea of a relationship... I completely fucked up."

I chuckled; only slightly, though. "Ironically, I talked to Joyce about this a couple of days ago. You were correct in your assumption that I couldn't handle the idea of sex; I can't. But Joyce gave me some advice, and I _was _planning on moving on. _This _wasn't what I meant by moving on, and I unwillingly jumped straight into something I needed to take my time on."

I sighed. "But, now that I'm here, I can't go back... I _don't _want to go back," I grabbed Dean's hand, making his turn to face me. "I feel like I can do this; go on, I mean. I don't think I can have you touch me..." I began tearing up, not daring to hold them in. I needed to say this, I needed to put trust in Dean. "but, just... just be there for me, okay? I don't think I will receive any better chance of moving on than I do now, and I don't want to give it up-"

Dean grabbed my other hand. "Don't _ever _do anything you aren't one hundred percent sure you want. But when you're ready, I'll be here. I don't need to read your file to know that you've done an _amazing _job in recovering from what happened to you, and those steps final steps, of course, will be more than a little hard-"

"Please stop," I halted him, making his eyes widen when he realized that he may had done something wrong. "You aren't good with words when directed at a lady, and you're sounding too cheesy."

Dean let out a chuckle, sighing in relief. "I'll straight up admit that I'm taking a few tips from a bunch of terrible romance flicks. None of it's fake, though, it's just words I can't think up."

I smiled. "Despite the timing, I think we can work around this. You're a catch I'm not willing to give up-"

"_'Catch'?_"

"-but if you _ever _hurt me," My tone turned dead serious, and I looked Dean straight in the eyes. "I'll have Lynda tear your balls off."

"Whose balls am I tearing off?" Lynda groaned, getting up off the floor, rubbing her eyes and turning to me, eyes widening upon seeing both of us. "White? What're you doing here?"

"The Captain told me you were still out on her floor, so I rushed in to nag a few photos for the crew." Dean jokingly explained.

Lynda's eyes widened further. "I hope to whatever fucking deity there is – the Covenants, if need be – that you're fucking with me."

I rolled my eyes. "He stayed the night."

Lynda crossed her arms, grinning. "So _you _passed out as well? And here you were blowing shit my way-"

"I and I." Dean clarified, making Lynda's eyes widen again.

"What the?" She turned her gaze to me. "Courtney? I... I thought you-"

"Shit happens when you're drunk," I shrugged, eyeing her suggestively. "remember?"

Before Lynda could answer, the feeling and motion of the gravity changed..

"Ma'am," Timmy's voice came over the room's intercoms, and judging by the change in motion, I knew what he was going to say. "We've dropped out of slip-space and are at the designated vectors. Orders?"

"Get us to Earth." I told him, letting out a sigh of relief.

_(IMPOSSIBLE! RETRACT YOUR ORDERS, NOW!) _"Wait!" I halted Timmy, feeling the Gravemind's stress rise through me. _(HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! EVERYTHING I HAVE AIMED FOR TO ACHIEVE! HIM! HE VANQUISHED IT ALL! THE DAMN FILTH ACTUALLY ROSE UP TO HIS EXPECTATIONS! GET TO THE BRIDGE! FIND THE MONARCH, AND GET TO THE BRIDGE!) _

"Timmy, summon the Monarch to the bridge, ASAP," I got up out of my bed, pulling on my boots and belts as Dean did and rushed to the door of my quarters, sprinting out of them and down the corridors towards the elevator that went straight to the bridge, Lynda and Dean right on my tail, my heart beating faster as the Gravemind's rant continued.

_(The irony. He had faith, and his faith only added to the filth's luck! We were led into a trap! She led us into a trap! I cannot believe the foolishness that I had! Had conventional space not persisted against me, this would all be avoided!) _

We arrived at the elevator, all funneling in. Dean slammed the button to the bridge, and we waited, anticipating news on what was happening. _(Clearly this is a fault on his part. Such a fault has doomed all!) _I wished the Gravemind would quit beating around the bush, but it seemed just as confused as we all were.

The doors of the elevator _hissed _open to show Red standing right outside. Without a word, he fell in with me, Lynda and Dean as we hurried into the bridge, dodging the crewmen who were rushing around to different stations. Something had happened, and it wasn't good. That fact that something had happened at a time like _this _was making me feel anxious.

I rushed over and got into my command chair, lowering it so Red, Dean and Lynda could lean over and see the data being sent to my personal command terminal, typing in the buttons to start up the terminal's systems.

"What's happening?" I asked, keeping the panic from entering my voice.

"See for yourself, cap." Hardinworth told me, forwarding something on to my terminal.

I quickly opened the file he sent me, seeing that it was a Covenant transmission that Timmy managed to intercept. It was local, and I quickly bought up the radar to see where the ship that he intercepted the transmission from was. Timmy already marked it on the radar. It was CSO-Class Supercarrier. The damn thing would had easily been able to destroy us, but didn't look like it was moving in to do so.

Ignoring it, I quickly went back and opened the file Hardinworth sent me, activating the translation codes and sitting back to listen.

"_Brothers, in what accordance do we follow our duties?"_

It was Sangheili, and it seemed to had been sent to the entire crew of the Supercarrier; probably a ship-wide propaganda broadcast. I suddenly wondered why a lone Covenant Supercarrier was all by itself, but pushed the thought aside and went back to focusing on the transmission.

"_Under the watchful gaze of the false Prophets? No. We follow our own path, and rely on each other to find what our Gods' desire of us."_

That explained why it was by itself. It was a group of Heretics that had broken off from the Covenant. How they managed to get a hand on a Supercarrier still eluded me.

"_The pet, Thel 'Vadam, would have us kneel in front of Humanity and treat them as Gods. He would have all of Sanghelios – all the Sangheili – bend down to Humanity. This is not the Forerunners' ambitions of us – no, they want us to finish Humanity off. The Prophets were false, yes, and Humanity is a blight on the galaxy – a blight that should had been wiped out! Now that the Covenant lays in ruins-" _My eyes widened. _"-we must take it upon ourselves to act. The war may be over, but a full recovery on the part of the Humans is impossible. Now is the time to strike!"_

I paused the transmission, my heart beating a thousand miles a minute. When the doors to the bridge _hissed_ open and the Monarch followed by the Fleighted Fire came in, I felt like my head was going to explode. The hangover didn't help, and I literally began to feel dizzy.

"What happened?!" I snapped at the Forerunner AIs. "And don't deny that anything happened because I _know_ it did!"

The Monarch hovered down in front of me, its center eye twisting and turning at an alarming rate. "Time is not my ally, Human. I am at the end of my life, and suffer the same fall from grace that your own ancillas do. Such malfunctions are rare, and so I perceived them not to be an immediate threat-"

"Get down to the point!" I snapped, clenching my fists into balls of fury.

"Going into slip-space has led to many dysfunctions on my part. One such is my control over the slip-space Transendor. Instead of the slip-space Transendor changing the time we exit slip-space to be sixteen hours since we first entered slip-space, it malfunctioned and has kept us in a time loop for the past eight years," I felt a sharp pain go through me. "Eight days may have passed in slip-space, but nearly eight years has passed outside of it, Reclaimer."

The entire command crew were verbally expressing their shock, anger and frustration. Most just didn't speak at all, and others broke down crying while other crew members rushed to comfort them. After we all thought we were home-free, we had to get fucked up the ass _one last time._

Realizing something, I snapped around to face Red, managing to keep my tears under control, but only barely. "Red, Status! _NOW!_"

Red shook his head. "The Gravemind won't tell me tell me much; it's pissed, Nai, and it's got it in its head that it'll get better if tensions are high on our side. Just know that Earth and Humanity are safe and the Covenant and Flood are defeated," Red let out a sigh as he added one last thing. "We were _so _close to being extinct."

Those last words were enough for me to snap, and I slowly and coldly turned to the Monarch who was hovering above my command chair, my eyes alight in rage. "Get the fuck off my ship." I ordered the Monarch in the darkest, coldest tone possible.

"Reclaimer-"

"GET OFF!" I screamed, not caring that everyone had turned their eyes to me. Dean was in a some sort of state of shock, and Lynda was swearing her head off; accompanied by the bridge crew's own swearing, yelling, cursing, and panicking, I couldn't handle it all, so I snapped, and I wasn't sorry about it.

"LEAVE! NOW!" I turned to Fleighted Fire. "YOU TOO! GET OFF MY FUCKING SHIP!"

They both complied without another protesting word, leaving the bridge as I summoned Timmy, his avatar appearing on his holotank by my command chair. "Timmy, set a course to Earth. I don't care if these assholes follow us or not, just get us home."

"Yes, Captain," Timmy complied, then doing something unusual, he placed on his head as if he were straining. "I'm unable to do so, ma'am. The SFTE's down; completely non-operational. The ETA to repairs are unknown. I don't think repairs are possible; the systems are automatically shutting down, and I can't get control over them."

I let out a frustrated scream. "So now what?!" I snapped, losing it further "We can't get back to Earth? You're telling me that we're stuck in a system with the biggest Covenant ship available who want to kill every last Human in the Universe? You're telling me we just left the frying pan and somehow ended up in fucking hell?!"

Timmy nodded, showing a great deal of sadness for an AI with his personality. "Yes, ma'am," He quietly confirmed. "I- Wait!" Timmy placed his hand on his head again. "Ship systems are now failing rapidly! Decline in engine power, weapon power, shield power- Oh, no. That's right, it's the failsafe protocol."

"What failsafe protocol?!" I slammed my hand down onto my seat's armrest.

"Ma'am, it's Lieutenant Dorhan!" Timmy began panicking, making me panic because _he wasn't an AI to ever fucking panic!_ "He..." Timmy's Avatar began flickering about, his words coming out all distorted. "He... He anticipated a possible failure, and made sure that his mutiny succeeded."

"HOW?!" I snapped. "Timmy, can you get this under control?!"

"Negative, negative! I have no control! Everything's decaying ma'am, and I'm sorry to say I can't stop it! It's Lieutenant Dorhan's failsafe protocol; I can't stop it, he made sure of that."

I slammed my hand down on his holotank, his avatar flickering as my hand slammed through it. "Do something right, you piece of fucking code, and tell me _why _you didn't warn us about this fucking failsafe shit!"

Timmy's avatar flickered further, completely distorted. He managed to regain control enough to raise his head to me, smiling, he said, "Goodbye, Captain."

"Timmy?"

Timmy's avatar disappeared just as all power on the bridge turned off.

The only reason the bridge wasn't dark was due to one of the nearby suns shining its ray's into the bridge. The light gave the operation officers all they needed to rush around to various stations, trying desperately to get the _Kryptonite _back online. Dean, Red and Lynda were also rushing around to stations, asking what buttons to press.

They had a right to be in a panic. The ship was now drifting towards the planet the Supercarrier was on, and if we entered the planet's atmosphere, we were fucked – as if karma hadn't already fucked us enough.

Thinking of something, I keyed my earpiece on a ship-wide channel. If anyone was wearing their own COMs device, then there was a chance that my plan would work. "Attention, all-hands, there's a power outage in the bridge. I need a report on the status of the rest of the ship, and any crew member is to get to power core and manually enable it ASAP. Also, if anyone encounters the Monarch or Monitor, have them sent to the bridge immediately."

Responses were heard immediately. The power outage was ship-wide with every door being opened, all lights and terminals connected to the ship's power core were offline, exhaust vents were offline, engineers had reported that the engines were offline – as was already established with the ship visibly drifting towards the planet and Timmy's own reports before disappearing – and the entire ship was basically _off-fucking-line._

Fleighted Fire was reported to had been accessing some of the deactivated terminals of the ship, but was making no progress in restarting the systems. The Monarch, however, hadn't been spotted. Being a Rampant AI, it probably lost the ability to care for its duties.

The Forerunners were the least of my concern for the moment. There was another, more pressing matter to attend to.

"Red!" I called out.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>**

* * *

><p>I turned when I heard Nai calling me, rushing over to her command chair.<p>

"What?" I asked, eager to get back to work with restarting the ship's systems.

Nai bought around her personal terminal and began pressing in buttons as she addressed me. "Power's off ship-wide which means that the cells are open. I can't have anyone tampering with the engineers' efforts, so you need to get down there and keep Fireteam fuckhead and dip-shit from causing trouble. 'Lodam too. In fact, he's the biggest threat. Kill him if you have to, but keep him from causing trouble."

Nodding, I immediately directed myself towards the entrance to the bridge, rushing through the corridor that connected the bridge up to the single two elevators that connected the bridge with the rest of the ship.

The elevators were offline, of course, so I had to improvise. The elevator doors were open, and if it were vice versa, I would probably had been stuck.

Entering one of the elevators, I smashed the protective glass of an emergency cutting torch box, grabbing the torch and powering it up.

It was times like this that I preferred an energy sword, but the torch got the job done, and managed to cut through the designated emergency cutting panel. The panel dropped once it was cut away from the floor, and I was sincerely glad that I wasn't afraid of heights.

Before I could even climb down the elevator shaft, I lost control of my body. I thought it was the Gravemind, but this was different. I not only lost control, but I felt like I was being pushed back inside my body, and an all too familiar feeling washed over me. _(Do not be alarmed. The task of accurately traversing this shaft has been deemed unfit for you.) _

I began examining my hands, but it wasn't me examining them. I had no control of my body. "Regained control. Newly established DID irrelevant. Elimination or capture of Elite Ultra, Thel 'Lodam, priority one."

"Fucking hell!" Was what came to my head when the realization of what was happening occurred to me. With 098 in control of my body, I hoped to God that he didn't do anything crazy with it. The Gravemind still had control, though, so there wasn't the chance of 098 trying to kill _my _body in an effort to stop the Flood.

Like he was a master, 098 managed to smoothly use my body to climb through the cut-away panel, leaping to the ladder which led down the shaft and masterfully continuing to climb further and further down the shaft. I still retained a lot of 098's skills, so the Gravemind didn't _really_ have a reason for letting 098 take control.

098 was one of the alters which kept me conscious when in control. I could see what was happening, and witness his life through his eyes- correction, _my _damn eyes.

Since my body was completely focused on doing something of particular importance at the moment, I decided to question the Gravemind about what the hell happened. _(As the ancilla stated: A failsafe was enacted one, set forth by one, Rhine Dorhan. The fool did not act without considering a possible failure, and put in place plans to prevent his failure from bringing about the end of Humanity – his mindful words, not mine. The failsafe was put in place with the assistance of the ancilla, Timmy, before Rhine had the ancilla manually delete any memories of the failsafe from his collective memory.)_

What were the failsafe's effects? And why was it only now initiating? _(The effects are to disable the vessel; leave it drifting in space. This is connected to what initiated the failsafe. The codes of the protocol put in place by the ancilla dictates that the failsafe will initiate if another ancilla enters the vessel's systems. Rhine believed that if he failed, and this vessel arrived back in your home system, a local system AI would investigate your ship upon its arrival at the system, and upon doing so, activate the failsafe protocol. This was to allow the forces of your __Frumentarii__ to seize all life aboard this vessel without resistance. Do you now have a vivid idea on the benefits?)_

It all made sense. So, the _Kryptonite's _systems had been deactivated by a failsafe protocol put in by dickhead-Timmy before he wiped any memories of it from his collective memory. Made sense. What didn't was why the Gravemind didn't bloody tell us about it! _(It was apart of my ambitions. You being captured by the Frumentarii was according to my goals. I did not tell you because of the aforementioned reasons.) _

Another question was down, and 098 was getting closer to the bottom of the shaft. I still had one question, though, and that was why the protocol was being activated now? Did it malfunction? _(No. A Human ancilla entered your ships systems almost as soon as you left the denial of locale. This ancilla is a ship ancilla of a Furmentarii stealth vessel that is tracking the fanatics. They are attempting to make contact with you now.) _

I hoped the Gravemind forwarded this on to Nai. _(I did. She is not taking it to heart.) _That explained why I was feeling pissed.

098 finally reached the bottom of the shaft, and much to his annoyance, he was relieved of control while I was put back into control. "What about Timmy?" I addressed the Gravemind. _(The ancilla ceases to exist. It was part of the failsafe protocol. It is dead.) _

I rubbed my face. So, Timmy was dead... there were so many negative consequences of that fact, and I was not a little pissed that the AI was dead. Fucking Dorhan. What remorse I had for killing him instantly disappeared.

Due to the power outage, all the doors to the elevator shaft were open. So, leaving the shaft via the door at the bottom of it was trivial at best. It just involved me waltzing through the open door, listening to the Gravemind groaning in my head as he had to listen to 098 complain about being relieved from control of _my _body.

As if I had been expecting them, both Larson and his Grunt friend, Yoplap, were waiting outside the shaft for me, Larson's arms crossed with Yoplap mimicking because he was a damn Grunt and Grunts enjoyed doing questionable things.

He must had been fast. He was able to get into his ONI stealth suit and get over here in the five minutes It took 098 to climb down the shaft. It was probably because all of the doors were open, or because he realized the threat of Location, Hazard and 'Lodam before Nai worked it out, and had already equipped his armor and weapons before Nai sent me after them.

"Waiting for me?" I asked him, getting my earpiece out of my fatigue's front pocket and setting it up, plugging it into my ear and switching it on.

"The Captain told me to regroup with you. So, yes." He confirmed, pulling out his M6D and cocking it, Yoplap doing the same save cocking his plasma pistol because the damned thing ran on batteries.

"You're fast." I observed, pulling out my own magnum.

"Your assessment is reassuring," He said in reply, turning to face down the corridor, the way we had to go. "I recommend we head to the armory. Your efforts will be increased with your MJOLNIR."

"Can we take that time?"

Larson nodded. "It won't take long."

"Oh," Yoplap groaned, disappointed in something that was quickly clarified on. "Demon's gonna become more scary?"

I scoffed as I followed Larson down the corridor. "Just a warning: I have recently been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder and the Gravemind may or may not bring out my alters at required intervals."

"Understood."

"What's Dissocitive identitty disorderly?" Yoplap asked.

"I've got six scary monsters inside me that will probably come out at some time." I explained, making the Grunt yelp in fear.

"Don't worry," Larson reassured the Grunt, flashing me a look. "They aren't monsters, and they won't harm you."

"I knew that."

"No you didn't." Larson shot the Grunt down, making it let out an annoyed grumble.

_(The other host is making haste to rally along side you both. Warn the Effingo.) _"T'Rakas's is going to be joining us. There's not going to be any problems, I assume?"

"I don't blame T'Rakas for what happened," Larson replied as we both turned around a corner, getting closer to the armory. "he was only a puppet, and I know that he'll be suffering enough when he regains control of his body and mind. I pity him; he'll be in a horrific position, and there's not much to be done to sway him from the hatred that he'll place on himself."

"Scary monster gonna be with us?" Yoplap asked.

"I didn't think you found the Hybrids scary." I remarked.

"He's referring to the Gravemind." Larson clarified for the Grunt.

"Does this make me a scary monster?" I asked Yoplap.

"You were already a scary monster before the scary monster made you even more scary."

I smile appeared on my face. I felt unusually prideful that a Grunt dreaded me. Dominance. The Covenant put so much effort in annihilating Humanity that any chance of a member of the empire fearing Humanity was something I would relish in. I was already feared by the Covenant, but it was only then that I realized how exhilarating it was.

"You like the M6D?" I asked Larson, trying to break the awkward silence that the Grunt set up with its reply. Why a Grunt had the ability to make an awkward silence was annoying to think of.

"Yes. Utilization is highly customizable. It works effectively at medium-to-close range, and is effective against all Covenant species."

"I know!" I replied. "It's such an effective weapon. All soldiers should be outfitted with one."

"Weapon regulations. Certain side-arms can only be utilized by high-ranking officials, and certain weapons can only be utilized by special forces. The M6D is such a weapon that is only equipped to special operation detachments – such as you and me."

"How many died to uphold regulations?" I asked, not addressing anyone per say. "You can add this to the inconvenience of the Insurrectionists' piss-poor decision to continue their efforts against the UNSC. Even in the time of crisis, Humanity refuses to evolve."

"No," Larson disagreed, turning a corner with me by his side, sighting the open doors to the armory. "Humanity has evolved more the past twenty-two years than they ever have. The Insurrectionists aside, Humanity has stood together."

"That's just ONI propaganda talking." I replied, snapping around when Larson grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into the bulkhead.

"Don't think because I'm a pet of ONI that I'm aligned to their whim," Larson sternly told me, ignoring Yoplap's requests for him to let me go. "I know ONI is anything but what they make themselves out to be," he leaned closer into my face, making me have to resist the urge to lash out. "You think you may know, but the SPARTAN-II Program is _nothing _compared to what they did to me."

"What _did _they do to you?" I asked him, placing my hands on his wrists and calmly making him let go of my shoulders.

"Classified."

"Then don't you _dare_ say that anything ONI has done to you is worse than the SPARTAN-II Program," I ordered him. "Because, frankly, I don't see what they could've done worse."

"Ask the Gravemind." Larson told me, leaving me and marching into the armory, Yoplap right behind him. _(There is an absent of time and patience. If you truly desire to know, I will indulge you, but not now.) _

I didn't complain, and followed the two into the armory, grinning when I saw my scratched and scarred MJOLNIR Mark IV armor on a bench. Without a reason to wait, I went over to a nearby bench that my nanocomposite body was on, and slipped it on over my fatigues before going over to my armor. The armory thankfully had a portable armor assembly device – I forgot the actual name for it – that would be able to help me get my armor on.

It took about fifteen minutes to get the armor on, but I enjoyed every moment. It wasn't as enjoyable as the massive armor assemblers that were usually used, but it got the job done. Larson helped me out with it, having a surprising amount of knowledge on how the Mark IV worked.

Lighter was also present, having been told to stay in the armory by Larson when he left to meet up with me. The Engineer helped out with equipping my armor, and told Larson – through translations by Yoplap – that it had upgraded my armor without anyones' consent. This would've been a problem for me if it hadn't given me an energy shield component among other various HUD and armor upgrades. Lighter seemed to know how to make a SPARTAN happy.

I ran some diagnostic tests through the armor's systems while Larson went through the armory, looking for the best weapon available for the upcoming containment of the escaped prisoners. He slung an M90A over his back, grabbing two M7s, holstering one on his left thigh's MWHS and drawing his combat knife, gripping it in his left hand. I saw the potential of some incredible combat maneuverability. Larson was the fast, assassin like guy. Me? I was the tank. I saw nothing wrong with that. I did, however, see a healthy competition for target eliminations, if Larson was the type.

Now came the next step. While the diagnostics ran, I grabbed a couple of Type 15 Non-lethal anti-personnel mines (Stun Mines) and placed them on either side of the door of the armory. Now when the escaped prisoners arrived at the armory to arm up, they wouldn't get far. _(Commendable. I did not even divulge this information yet.) _

Larson got ready as well, leading Lighter Than Some behind a weapon's shelf for cover and loading non lethal rounds into his M7.

Now just came the waiting game – not a game I enjoyed. It was a fancy little game that basically just had me, Larson and Yoplap waiting around with our thumbs up our asses, tongues sticking out and feet kicking about like a bunch of little school girls who couldn't tell that the old-man in a Santa outfit _wasn't _Santa Claus.

"While we're waiting, would you mind elaborating on the circumstances of why the ship's the way it is?" Larson asked, fiddling with his combat knife. I noticed that it was getting surprisingly hot, and I heard static over my COM.

"Dorhan guessed that his mutiny may fail, so he had Timmy set up an emergency failsafe protocol. It was only meant to go off once a _Human _AI investigated the ship's systems – more directly speaking, an ONI AI. The plan was that if Dorhan failed and the failsafe wasn't deactivated by him after he took control of the ship, then once the ship arrived at Sol, and an ONI AI on one of the orbital facilities around the system bypassed Timmy and investigated the ship, the failsafe would go off and deactivate the ship's systems so ONI could safely take us all in. Unfortunately for us, Dorhan took the extra step, and had Timmy remove any memory of creating the protocol."

"And Timmy? Why's he not fixing this?"

I shook my head, reminiscent on him being dead. Despite him being an AI, and trying to get me killed a few times, he grew on me. "Dead. The protocol destroyed his systems along with the ships. The best chance we have might be to manually reactivate the power core, but even _that _may not work."

"ONI's resourceful. This doesn't surprise me." Larson said.

I let out an amused huff. "I didn't think it'd surprise you. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were _guessing_ something like this would happen."

"Um, why is failsafety projectile going off if we are not at Sol?" Yoplap asked.

"Observant," I commended. "According to the Gravemind, there's an ONI Prowler nearby, and its AI tried to investigate the _Kryptonite's _systems when we appeared out of slip-space..." I thought about telling them about what happened, but decided against it, and smartly so as the voices of the escaped prisoners got nearer.

ODSTs or not, they were undisciplined. Most of them were, anyway. I used this method to root out which ones were the dumb, irresponsible ones, and which ones might actually stand with us. Most of them entered the armory at the same time, and had little time to react to us standing there with our weapons drawn before the stun mines went off, dropping them all to the ground with an electrical surge.

The rest of Location and Hazard came barging in only to be put down by our non-lethal rounds. Some tried to surrender upon seeing me in my armor, but we didn't take any chances, and incapacitated them all.

Reloading my MA5C, I carefully approached the unconscious prisoners, weapon raised in case. My HUD linked up to their neural interfaces, giving me a run-by of their status. They were all unconscious, and the entirety of Hazard and Location were here. It was getting hot, and I silently hailed Nai, getting no answer.

Something made no sense. 'Lodam, who had it out against Humanity, didn't kill these guys when they were let out of their cell. Did they manage to kill him? That wasn't possible; he would've taken nearly all of them down with him. _(Your adversary refrained from acting with violence, and so did these unfaithful. They knew the length of their chances, and was not going to extend their luck beyond its bounds. You adversary still has maintained his resourcefulness – whether he be without a logical sense of judgement or not.)_

I wished the Gravemind wasn't so cryptic. If it wasn't, I might had been able to aim my weapon at the door before 'Lodam came barging in, knocking me back and grabbing my throat, bringing me close to his face and parting his mandibles, hissing into my visor.

He used Location and Hazard as fodder. I would have found it admirable if I wasn't staring death in the face.

He threw me across the room, making me hit Larson and send him tumbling over. How the armorless Elite had the strength to do so was a question for another day. The main question was "Did I just crush Larson?"

I got off of him. He had bent nose that was bleeding, but was fine, otherwise. He coughed a few times as he got up, raising his weapon at 'Lodam. I placed my hand onto his M7, making him lower it. "Get Yoplap and Lighter out of here," I told him, turning to the Grunt who looked like it had just shit itself. "This is between me and him."

Larson didn't waver, and rushed over to the Grunt, grabbing its arm and reaching for Lighter's tentacle.

"Traitor!" 'Lodam roared, sprinting for Yoplap. I ran in front of him, grabbing him around the waist and pushing him back, giving Larson and his two friends enough time to escape the armory. 'Lodam quickly lost interest in them, and bought both of his hands down onto the my back. Lighter's implemented energy shields only made his hands reflect, sending him tumbling back as I let go of him.

Larson, Yoplap and Lighter were safe. It was just me and the Elite who killed my best friend.

'Lodam formed his mandibles into a smile. He had no reason to be happy. I had a better chance against him. He only had his armor's under-skin while I had the strongest armor available to Humanity. _(Eight years.) _If the Gravemind needed a plan B, it could try pissing Humanity off until they die with its constant corrections.

I felt myself being pulled inside my body again. The Gravemind was letting an alter take control. Judging by the fact that I could still see through my eyes, it must had been 098. "Elite Ultra, designated: Thel 'Lodam, cease aggression and minimize aggression levels. Engagement unnecessary and futile."

'Lodam tilted his head. "So, you are machine again, are you? No matter, you will still die."

"No!"

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Vale Nar 'Sarasee)<strong>**

* * *

><p>I slammed into Thel, holding him against the bulkhead as I turned my attention to the Demon. "Run! I have him, go!"<p>

The Demon seemed hesitant, but rushed to leave the armory nevertheless. Why the Parasite within his head allowed such an action was odd, but not of concern. Once the Demon had left, I turned my head around to face Thel who was gritting his mandibles, splattering sliver on my face.

"Vale!" Adam Franti called, entering the armory as the Demon left, Toless Morgan and Rick Cylus by his sides and weapons raised at Thel who was still being held against the bulkhead.

"Stay back!" I warned them, sweating not from exhaustion, but from the unusual heat. "This is something you _must _not get involved in."

"He killed Theo!" Rick Cylus protested, taking a step forward but being stopped by Adam Franit who held his arm up to block him.

"Let them sort this out," Adam Franti said. "you wouldn't get between two lions fighting each other, so share the same courtesy with these two."

Recently, I had began wearing my armor at all times. If a situation like the one with Thel's rampage happened again, I would be prepared. I had an advantage against Thel. At least, I did until – unbeknownst to me until it was too late – he pulled the hilt of my energy sword from my thigh and kick me back, activating it with a snap of his arm, the crisp sizzling of the blade signalling a predicament that would likely end in my death.

As if he had never left me, Qrs 'Jaragsai deactivated his active-camouflage behind me, handing me his energy sword being disappearing into thin air once again, like he was never there.

I snapped my own arm with a flick, activating Qrs' red blade. I then bought it to bear, waiting for Thel to attack first. Without consideration, Thel lunged at me, and I deflected his lunge, kicking him back with my hoof, bringing my blade to bear again.

"As suspected," Thel hissed. "You lack the courage to attack me, and must wait for _me _to attack first."

"No," I shook my head, trying to resist trembling at the thought of ending his life. "It's wisdom that I have. And cunning. A true warrior isn't reckless, and uses tactics to defeat his foe-"

"Lies!" Thel snapped at me, entering an attack posture. "Cunning is for the San 'Shyuum, and they are traitorous bastards! You would use _their _tactics?"

"Cunning existed before the San 'Shyuum!" I sternly reminded him, my voice raising with irritation. "I cannot steal a tactic from them! The damn Forerunners used Cunning! As did those before them!"

Thel shook his head, immediately charging me afterwards. I blocked his attack, dodging out-of-the-way of an upper slice, backstepping and stabbing my blade forward, having it knocked back by Thel's own defense. I didn't want to kill him, but it was shaping up to be so.

I rolled out-of-the-way from another sweep of his blade, hopping back onto my hooves and backstepping another swing, quickly bringing my own blade down to his legs, but having him jump over the swing and kick at me, making me have to issue an emergency dodge, being cut along the back as I leaped back up.

The wound didn't tamper me, and I re-entered my defense posture, awaiting his next attack. Waiting did not take long, and Thel charged again.

I dodged his charge, kicking him in the side as I spun around him, kicking him in the back again, narrowly dodging his backwards slice.

The air was hot with the energy of the swords fuming. My skin felt burnt from some narrow misses, and my mandibles twitched as the blood rising to my head caused the pain from Careekius' beating to re-surge. Some pains never died. I was also sweating from both exhaustion, and the heat. The power of the ship had ended, so the ship's cooling systems were non-operational. Even so, it felt _extremely _hot, and the air was very humid.

Ducking back against another swipe of Thel's, I scaled over a Human bench, coming around behind Thel, but having to backstep when his anticipated my arrival behind him, and swung mindlessly backwards.

After his swing, I bought my blade up to reflect another lung of his, taking aim at his opening, but retracting my attack when he quickly bought his blade around again. The force behind his blade hitting mine sent me stumbling back, and I _just _dodged another swing of his, but was surprised to have purple blood splash over me.

Snapping around, I saw that I had indirectly caused the death of one of Qrs' operatives who had little time to move when I stumbled into him, unable to dodge Thel's attack in time, and having the top of his chest sliced open. He had been cloaked, and was watching closely. I doubted Qrs was _really _going to allow my death, so he had his operatives ready to move in if my tides turned.

They had good coordination. They all knew that I would recover from some attacks that left me open. Unfortunately, the operative got in the way, and was killed by Thel.

Thel hissed at the corpse of the operative, snapping his head back around to face me and charging again.

Instead of backing away in case I stumbled into another cloaked operative, I instead moved forward, bringing my own blade around to knock his away before swiping my blade towards his legs as the opening permitted, slicing them both open and sending purple blood trailing across the ground.

Thel took no heed of it, and lunged again, being kicked back by me when he left an opening. We both knew that he would be dead already if I so desired it, and he was too skilled in the art of swordsmanship, so there was a problem. "Thel, you let your emotions blind you," I tried negotiating. "Vent! Just vent it. Worry not about appearing weak, and vent! You have too much swelling up within you."

Thel laughed, drool splattering from his mandibles as he said, "You want me to _cry? _Appear weak to arouse you before finishing me off?! Pathetic! I will not be weak in the face of death!"

"It's denial that makes you weak," I said, composing myself. "It's not weak to let your emotions leave you."

Thel shook his head. "It _is! _It goes against Sangheili honor!"

"And look where Sangheili honor has led us!" I replied, my voice rising again, my composure breaking. "We have been blinded by superstition! Thel, you're stronger than that!"

Thel ignored me, and was about to attack me when Qrs appeared behind him, grabbing his sword arm and snapping his wrist back, making Thel drop the blade and let out an agonizing roar as he dropped to the ground, gripping his wrist.

Qrs didn't cease, and used his hooves to move and hold Thel's other wrist to the ground before bringing it up and smashing his armored hoof down onto the wrist, making it crack under the impact.

The pain reached Thel's head, and tears began forming. As the tears swelled, they began pouring, and Thel's roars of pain led to weeping.

Unable to cradle both of his broken wrists, Thel instead resorted to crying. This was what I wanted. He began crying over the pain, and in turn, let all of his negative energy out.

Deactivating Qrs' energy sword and tossing it back to him, I knelt in front of Thel, taking back my own energy sword and holstering it before grabbing Thel and bringing him in for an embrace.

Thel no longer resisted, and let his pain out, finally muttering as he wept, "Forgive me, brother."

I didn't speak a word, but held him in as close as I could, calmly stroking the back of his neck in a reassuring matter. Adam Franti and his two comrades both stood silently off to the side, and Qrs and his other two operatives deactivating their cloaks.

Both of the operatives rushed over to their dead comrade, but Qrs stood above me and Thel, silent.

The pinnacle of peril was reached when a ground-breaking crashing sound was heard only moments before darkness washed over me.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>**

I hope this chapter doesn't seem fast paced, but I kinda got an adrenaline spike while writing it, and listening to Two Steps From Hell also kept my heart going.

Thanks go out to The Constitutionalist for pointing out a rather obvious typo, and I still want your damn eyes! Give them to me, damn it! Is Wants thems! Mys preciouses!

I've made a decision. Instead of doing up an entirely new FanFiction for the sequel, I'll just continue this one. By the time all of this side of the story is done, there'll still be a lot of loose ends that need tying up, and it seems wrong to just cease writing for six months and continue afterwards. So, I may only take a break for a few weeks to work on revising some of the earlier chapters (Contradicting the whole evolution of writing thing I was going for) before continuing. Since it I won't be making any jumps into the future, I won't have a particular plot objective to reach, and can relax and spend more time making up more various situations for the characters.

Right, Constitutionalist, get in there and pick out those obvious typos that I missed during my proof reading. I did only proof read this once, but I don't think it'll make a difference because you can never really effectively proof read your own content, and I read _way _too fast.

Everyone else is welcome to leave reviews pointing out any lore or unloreful (Made up word) mistakes and typos, and are also welcome to leave their thoughts as hearing peoples' thoughts on things is awesome!


	45. Despair: Part One

****(Red Jsarez)****

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[Unknown, 2555]****

****[TIME]********-********[Unknown]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite, **_******Unknown Corridor, Unknown Overall Location]****

* * *

><p>That explained the heat.<p>

I didn't know why it escaped me earlier. The heat, the lack of ability to contact Nai. The _Kryptonite _was breaking atmosphere. Now, the Charon-class light frigate had crashed down onto the _same _planet the Covenant Supercarrier was orbiting.

The Covenant – or whatever the correct name for them was – wasn't the problem. The problem was the lingering fact that we had just _fallen _through the planet's atmosphere and smashed ground side. Hull breaches were to be expected, and I hoped that my earlier assessment of the planet was true, and that the atmosphere was breathable. The lack of coughing up my lungs because I sucked in a breath of toxic gas gave me the confidence I needed to start moving.

Taking in another breath, I crawled off the ground. The corridor was now angled sharply, so moving would be tricky for those without the proper support. I was just glad that the section I was in hadn't been smashed apart upon crashing. I prayed that the same conditions applied to Nai and the rest of the ship.

Checking the COM channel, I wasn't surprised to hear static. With there being nothing I could do, I had to get moving.

I did a quick run-by of my body, moving all my limbs for any sign of pain and rubbing my hands over my body. The air was thick with smoke, so visibility was minimal. I wouldn't know if I had a wound until my hand touched it. Pain immunity had its flaws.

I was glad to find that the only injury I had was a scratch on my head and a few scratches along my arm from sliding across the grated corridor ground. I got lucky – but there would be absolutely _no _chance of there being zero casualties. I had been in another ship crash before **– **and judging by the impact, this was a lot more serious than that time, and that time was _more _than a little serious.

Recalling what I was doing before being thrown around the corridor, I remembered that I was beginning to catch up with Larson, Yoplap and Lighter Than Some **– **I would've already caught up with them if I hadn't had to wait up for T'Rakas after leaving the armory. When questioning the Gravemind about the Hybrid's location, it said that he was held up by a group of angry pilots.

Unfortunately, the Gravemind was without tolerance, and had T'Rakas kill the pilots. I wasn't saddened by their death because the entire crew had been told that the Gravemind had full control of the Hybrid **– **so approaching him the way that they did had given them their just desserts.

Slowly, I scaled up the inclined corridor, gripping the bulkhead for support. Looking around, I found T'Rakas rise next to me, gripping the bulkhead for support as well, picking up his spear. So far, he looked fine, and was moving without trouble.

The others had to be just around the corner. The Gravemind wasn't telling me anything about _anyone's _fate, being pissed off at me. If its plans were ruined, why didn't it just kill me? Because it wanted to cause me as much distress as possible. It was shitted over the whole time-skip thing – we all were – and found an outlet in messing with me. That was fine; I didn't need to rely on the damn Flood to assist me with everything.

I eased the stress I was putting into scaling the inclined corridor, letting the magnets on the bottom of my armored boots take over. Steadily, I reached the top of the newly made ramp and turned the corner, still steadying myself. The new corridor was sloped downwards, and at the bottom of the corridor, where a junction was, a mass of debris and metal was piled up into a smoking mess. I couldn't see Larson, and this fact alone alarmed me.

Without concern for my magnetic strips on my boots failing, I ran down the sloped corridor, leaving T'Rakas to help himself up the previous inclined corridor, pushing a large piece of pipe that was blocking the way aside with my armor's strength and continuing down the corridor, my boots clanging against the metal. I used the sound of my boots on a surface for a great deal many things.

I came to a stop when I saw Larson kneeling over a something. Upon further inspection, I saw that it was Lighter Than Some he was kneeling over, a large metal beam going through the Engineer's large gas sack, pink blood littered everywhere.

Tensing my muscles as T'Rakas came rushing to a stop next to me, I slowly approached. Yoplap was hugging the head of the dead Engineer, trying to hold in tears but failing. Larson wasn't showing any emotions, and was instead stroking one of the tentacles of Lighter, his eyes staring straight into the motionless eyes of his dead friend.

Yoplap seemed fine, physically **– **probably having survived any injury from Larson using his own body to protect the Grunt when the ship crashed. Larson _was _damaged, however, with a piece of thick wire sticking out of his left arm's bicep and scratches going all across his right arm, neck, and a large gash along his chest, his nanocomposite suit being compromised around all of his wounds.

He was more damaged emotionally. Whether he showed it or not, he wasn't taking the sight of one of his dead friends lightly.

Noticing I was there, Larson calmly said, "He heard crying coming from back down the way to the armory... and wanted to go check who was upset," Larson sadly shook his head. "He managed to escape my grip... and I didn't have time to get to him before we crashed."

I heard the crying, too. It wasn't Human, and was probably one of the Elites. Why? I didn't know **– **nor care. I had the hope that it was 'Lodam begging for his life, though.

I heard static over the private channel I had with Nai, and quickly adjusted it as Nai's voice came through. "Red? Come in?!"

"I'm here," I replied, tapping the side of my helmet. "Sit-rep, ASAP!"

"We crashed Bow-first, but we didn't suffer much of the blunt from where we are," She began, coughing, probably smoke in the bridge. "a few bumps and bruises, but we're fine. You?"

"Same. What's the status of the ship's systems? Can we still do anything?"

"I've managed to get into contact with Fleighted Fire. It's heading off to the power core with a few engineers. It'd be _a lot_ _easier_ if the Monarch was around as well, but the damn thing has pissed off, and I'm hearing that not even Fleighted Fire knows where it is. Oh, the AI that hacked the ship's systems? Yeah, it managed to hack into the one of the COM channels and gave me a _load_ of juicy information."

"Such as?" I urged her, keeping an eye on Larson who seemed to be contemplating whether or not to comfort Yoplap.

"It got quite the surprise when we appeared, and couldn't resist checking our systems out when his scanners said that we were a ship that was missing for eight years. The AI confirmed it; the Monarch fucked us over. The AI didn't tell me much more other than that the Prowler it's assigned to has been tracking the Supercarrier for the past week, and that they just sent an _inter-slip-space _transmission to a ship that's apparently big enough to take the Supercarrier down."

"You sound like there's some bad news you need to tell me." I observed.

"There is. The Supercarrier picked us up earlier, but didn't take much heed of us. Despite all that talk over that transmission Timmy intercepted about wanting to wipe out every Human, they weren't overly keen to begin so soon. The bad thing is that crashing on the planet got them ticked off, and the AI says that a large assault force is on-route to 'Exterminate the vermin' "

"They can't help in any way?"

"Nothing's going. They can't blow their cover. The AI says we just have to wait it out until this ship arrives and kicks the Supercarrier's ass."

"The Monarch or Monitor might be able to get into their systems remotely," I suggested. "The Monarch did so to get 'Sarasee off of his ship, so it might work the same here."

"That might work. I'll get onto him about that. In the mean time, I managed to contact Hauver, and told him to assign Fireteams to any breaches in the ship's hull. Lynda and Dean's on-route down there as well. I can't narrow down the breaches, so the best chance you've got is to get to the nearest hanger or vehicle-bay. The Supercarrier has halted over a barren plain not far off the starboard side and is sending all its got over to us. You _have _to keep these Covenant or whatever off of us until this ship arrives. So, get moving."

"What about what happened? Do I inform anyone I see?" I asked, nodding when Larson gave me a look that asked me, "Are we moving out?"

"No. We need to keep moral strong at the moment. Telling them that their families are probably dead won't really get me the results I want with fighting off these bastards."

"Understood. Out." I said, watching as Larson pull out his M90A shotgun and holster his M7 on his right thigh. The fact that he was planning on using a close-quarter's weapon meant that he _was_ _pissed. _

Yoplap managed to compose himself and got up, letting go of the head of his dead friend and pulling out his plasma pistol and falling in with me, T'Rakas and Larson as we continued down the corridor, heading to the midship hanger-bay – the closest bay. I took heed of the groaning Larson made when he moved. He was pretty messed up in the head at the moment, and that wouldn't help his psyche very well **– **and having the unusual condition he had, a low psyche meant getting your ass kicked.

"You okay?" I asked him, pulling my MA5C off of my back and gripping it in both hands.

"Not really," He said truthfully. "But I know my limitations, so don't worry."

"I'm sorry about Lighter-"

"No you're not." He coldly cut me off.

"I actually _am_," I sternly replied. "The Engineer was _my _friend as well-"

"Use his name. If he's your friend, use his name."

I shook my head, silently scolding myself. "Apologies. But it's hard, he _is _an alien-"

Larson snapped me a glare. "And that means what? What, huh?"

I returned my gaze to straight ahead. "Don't try and fight me. You're looking for an excuse to get angry, and it's not going to work. Just stay focused, and we'll argue later."

Larson took off ahead. "Sounds fine to me." He bitterly said, Yoplap hurrying up behind him.

My COM channel erupted in static again, and I adjusted it until I heard Franti's voice. "Sierra, you still game?"

"As long as it's not scrabble." I replied indifferently.

"We managed to get 'Lodam under control. Unfortunately, to do that, we had to break his wrists. We're heading off to the medical bay to get him some pain-killers and use that Forerunner nanobot thing to repair his bones. Qrs' and his assassin buddies are with us. Vale too. We'll be heading to regroup with the Major afterwards."

"Understood. Don't take too long."

"Affirmative." A crackle of static was heard as Franti left the channel.

I never showed much appreciation for Fleighted Fire's efforts to bring as much Forerunner technology aboard before we had to make the quick dash to escape Halo. Granted, I never had a reason to show any appreciation. I felt bad for it. It wasn't its fault that the Monarch was going rampant, and it didn't intend for any of this to happen. The Monarch didn't either, but I would accept Nai's anger towards it **– **I was angry at it as well.

Both me and T'Rakas turned a corner up ahead, seeing that Larson and Yoplap had slowed down for us to catch up. "Back there, what were you talking to the Captain about?" Larson asked, crossing his arms, Yoplap not mimicking out of being emotionally drained.

"What do you mean?" I tried my best to avoid the question, but my attempts were destined to fail. I was wondering how he managed to hear what I said since my helmet's speakers were off, then realized that he probably hacked my private channel with Nai. So, he was pretending that he didn't know what we were talking about, but in turn, revealed that he hacked into my private channel with Nai. I'd be surprised, but the death of Lighter took its toll on him **– **mishaps were to be expected.

"You asked her if you should inform someone about something," He clarified. "What was it you seemed inclined to inform a said someone about?"

As far as I knew, Larson had no family, and lacked the need for any moral to continue fighting. His psyche was low enough, and I doubted that telling him about the Monarch's fuck-up would bring it lower. "What I tell you stays between _me _and _you _only."

"Moral reasons," He concluded, nodding. "It's that bad?"

"It is. The Monarch's slip-space transendor malfunctioned, and instead of leaving slip-space sixteen hours after entering when Halo was destroyed, we exited slip-space eight years later instead."

As suspected, Larson didn't show any emotions to the news, but Yoplap seemed to jump a bit, quickly being pat on the head by Larson while shaking in terror at the news. "Apparently this happened because the Monarch's rampancy was getting worse," I continued. "That means I'm to blame as well, because it's already mentioned that it's suffering minor symptoms of rampancy."

Larson shook his head. "I had Timmy show me his recording of that meeting. I vividly remember the Monarch reassuring the Commanding Officers of the _Kryptonite _that his rampancy _wouldn't_ persist to be a problem. It's not your fault."

I tilted my head, curious. "You're offering a lot of support after what just happened back there."

"My rate of venting emotions is far superior to even a SPARTANs. That, and your words hit me faster than most. Congratulations on having that effect."

I shrugged. "Comes naturally."

Another open COM channel crackled to life, and both me and Larson connected to it in unison, waiting for a voice to come over. "Attention, all hands," I heard Lynda's voice. "The next designated Fireteams are to report to their assigned stations immediately. Vector, Glitter and Epsilon are to report to the port-aft hanger-bay. Fireteams Bonus, Secretary and Tomorrow to the starboard-aft hanger-bay. Fireteams Titan, Axel and Hargrad to the aft vehicle-bay. Marshal and Embers to the port-stern hanger-bay. Sorrow and Victoria to the starboard-stern. Glory and Washington to the stern vehicle-bay. Victory and Missionary to the midship vehicle-bay. Devious and Ice to the starboard-midship hanger-bay. And Iron and Xeno to the port-midship hanger-bay. Fireteams Gagdet, Marathon, Iron, Blue, Hondan and Queen are to report to the bow parts of the ship and assist with rescuing crew trapped down there. More specific objectives will be designated by First Lieutenant Sullivan whose Fireteam is heading down to the bow with him. Every other Fireteam and active personal are to patrol the ship for any breach in the interior hull and report said breach if found. Out."

The channel crackled with static again once Lynda was finished and disconnected from the channel.

The four of us didn't get much further after Lynda's issuing of orders before Nai contacted me over our private channel. "Red, my XO, Cortez, will be leading the reigns in giving you Intel from the bridge. I've gotta get to my quarters; I forgot to get the artifact before rushing to the bridge earlier."

T'Rakas held his arm out in front of me, halting me. "Scratch that," Nai added. "The Gravemind just said that it's sending T'Rakas that way."

I gave T'Rakas a nod as he took off back down the way we just came. Larson turned when he heard the Hybrid's footsteps getting distant. "Where's he going?" He asked.

"To get the artifact from N- the Captain's quarters."

Larson nodded, turning around and waving for Yoplap to continue following him. I hurried to catch up with them. Having his mind subjected to the thought of Lighter meant that he wasn't entirely focused, and was almost forgetting about my presence. I hoped he really _did_ know of his limits, because the chances of him getting someone killed were there **– **and they were uncomfortably _high_.

I quickly went from worrying about Larson to taking notice of the footsteps coming from around the corner of a corridor up ahead. The footsteps were heavy – ODST armor. And there were... five pairs. So, a Fireteam of ODSTs were coming our way. If I calculated things correctly, then the Fireteams sent to the sections of the ship _behind _us weren't consisted of ODSTs. This Fireteam wasn't assigned to any section of the ship – unless I miscalculated. _(You are correct in your assumption. Commendable.) _The Gravemind! Why didn't I just had it tell me where any breaches in the hull were?! _(Because I would subsequently refuse to answer your queries.) _And why would that be? _(Irritation is an emotion _**– **_emotions cloud judgement. I am aware that my mind is clouded by emotions, but I will not act to refresh my mind. To preserve you, I may act – but not before.)_

I shook my head, annoyed. So, the Gravemind was willing to help me if it meant keeping me alive, but wasn't willing to get this over and done with. _(The sooner this occurrence resolves, the sooner I must decide of our fate. My goals have failed, and my existence means little.) _I felt it best not to remark on that. Aggravating the Gravemind further could very well prove fatal. Conclusively, I'd just have to deal with the hull breaches without the Gravemind's help.

First thing was first. The ODSTs. Almost immediately after talking with the Gravemind, the five ODSTs appeared around the bend up ahead, slowing down to a stop in front of us. The lead ODST snapped to attention, giving off a crisp salute. "Sir, Sergeant Tyler Woodrow, Fireteam Ecuador. We're at your command, sir."

I analysed the Marine. His tone suggested he was of an average age for a Marine Sergeant, and it was also devoid of emotion and dry. I figured I could rely on him to be an effective leader – the type we needed at the moment more than anything.

"We've already got support where we're going," I said, adding, "What I need _you _to do is continue the way we came from, and keep an eye out for any hull breaches. Understood?"

Woodrow nodded. "Affirmative. I've got an eye for spotting holes."

Another ODST, identified as Lance Corporal Dylan Rosolie, let out a giggle. "Yeah, he has x-ray vision."

"That's right, Rosolie," Woodrow replied in a dry tone. "Yet instead of using it in times of need – like now – I use it on the broads," Woodrow shook his head. "Standard issue Rosolie reaction. They're enjoyable, that's why I summon them forth."

I stopped the ODST before he could head down the way we just came from. "If you see a dead Engineer, ignore its body, okay?"

Woodrow glimpsed at Larson before quickly turning his gaze away, turning his attention back to me. "Understood, sir. I don't think my men would've wanted to touch it anyway-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I broke him off, taking a step forward. Being in my armor, I towered him **– **I didn't even need to be in my armor to tower him. I hoped my size would intimidate him.

"With all due respect, sir, but logic dictates that it's unusual for Humans to want to touch dead things. Dead things with slimy surfaces fall into the same category. More so, since they're _slimy._"

I took back what I thought of the Marine; I didn't want to rely on him, and I _didn't _like him. "Keep your logic to yourself, next time." I told him, stepping aside so he could continue on. He turned his head to face me as he and his Fireteam passed me. Wearing a helmet or not, I could tell that he was glaring at me.

"Come on." Larson gestured me onward. It didn't seem as if the ODST's words affected him. They probably didn't. He was more clear-head than he was earlier, so emotions were less likely to take control of him. If only 'Lodam were that strong. He was an alien that prided himself in not letting emotions take control **– **then the damn thing lets just that happen. The irony was so strong it made me want to hit something.

After walking through several more corridors, we finally arrived at the elevator that would take us down to the port-midship hanger-bay. The elevator doors were open, of course, and the emergency panel had already been burnt away – likely done by Fireteam Xeno and Iron as they made their way down to the same hanger-bay.

All three of us – me, Larson and Yoplap – entered the elevator. The fall down the shaft wasn't far, so both me and Larson could just jump down, but Yoplap would be- actually, no he wouldn't. Calmly, I picked up the Grunt – making it jump in shock when I touched it – and jumped down the shaft, my armor making a _cranking _sound as I hit the ground and it absorbed the impact. Larson landed next to me, calmly patting Yoplap's head when the Grunt rushed over to him, barking at me for scaring it. I just turned and looked at the Grunt and it shut up.

We subsequently exited the elevator shaft, having Iron and Xeno greet us as we exited. The two Fireteam leaders immediately snapped to attention, saluting me – even though they were probably a higher rank than me. "Staff Sergeant Orson Sacher," The first Marine said before gesturing to the other, female Marine leader. "This is Sergeant Joela Ferrara. We're at your disposal, Sierra."

That was when I felt myself being pushed back inside _myself. _An alter was taking control, and judging by the fact that I could still see through my body's eyes, I'd guess that this was 098 or another alter that didn't blind me when it came into control. _(Correction. I have manipulated your mind so you will always stay conscious regardless of the alter taking control of this form. This is so you can learn from what the alters experience. Your knowledge of ideals they encounter while they are in control may become vital in the future.) _

Whatever the Gravemind's reasons, I was grateful. Now I just had to sit back and watch the show. Alexander was probably the one in control, so there wasn't the chance of the alter messing anything up.

"Regardless of the status of the ship," Alexander began, talking with my mouth but using his own words. "it's in combat alert alpha. Multiple Covenant boarding and carrier vessels are on-route from a CSO-class Supercarrier. Interception squad status's are red; no intercepting vessel will be able to leave the _Kryptonite._"

Every word Alexander spoke gave me new insight into his personality. He avoided vagueness and had so far used words that were simple, easy to understand, and devoid of complications. He was straight to the point, and didn't worry about using fancy words to make himself seem smarter. He was admirable, at best. At worst, he seemed to speak without emotion, and some things he said sounded like he was reading it off of paper. This was because he was created by 098.

Taking a breath before continuing, Alexander took a quick glimpse at the Enforcer floating above the hanger-bay's ground, bobbing up and down as near a hundred Sentinels buzzed around it. The size of the Enforcers meant that their movement around the ship was limited. They had to resort to moving around through the large vehicle tunnels that connected each bay – vehicle or hanger – together. Still, the Enforcers normally just remained idle in a single bay. The Sentinels were the ones who patrolled the ship for some reason – likely just something to keep them busy.

"The lack of aerial and armored vehicles will dampen our defensive efforts," Alexander continued. "but engaging the Covenant inside the ship will give us a buff in our defense. The size of this select bay means that only two Phantoms will be able to fit in at a time – each dropping off roughly three Elite led Lances. You ran the simulators for standard Covenant Lances?"

Sacher and Ferrara both nodded.

Alexander crossed his arms. "As expected. Continuing: the Phantoms will drop off around six Lances before bugging out of the bay. More than likely two more Phantoms will be waiting as they leave – meaning that the pressure _will __not _relent. When the Phantoms enter the bay, they _will _be using their turrets to lay down suppressive fire. These turrets fire plasma rounds with a large area of effect at a dangerously fast rate. To deal with this particular threat, I want your Fireteam's heavy weapon's specialists to find the nearest emergency weapon's locker and equip themselves each with a SPINKR. Next, I want them to set themselves up behind the emergency defense barricades on the stairway that leads up to this hanger-bay's control room. Their primary targets are the turrets of the Phantom – no other target is acceptable until the turrets of the Phantom's are down."

Sacher and Ferrara nodded, sending their orders over their TEAMCOM. While Alexander waited, he turned his sight to the Enforcers and Sentinels. To assign them, he needed to first speak with Nai over our private COM channel.

"Courtney, I need the frequency codes to the channel you and the Monitor are connected up to."

"Wait one," She put Alexander on hold. There were worse people who could put him on hold. "8172."

Alexander tapped a small button on the side of my – or his – helmet which bought up the voice command system of my armor. "Access COM channel: 8172."

A small loading icon appeared for a few seconds before the my COM connected to the channel. I took in notice that the two Fireteam leaders were waiting for Alexander. Alexander also took notice, and put his hand up, using the universal sign that told them to wait a moment_. _"Monitor, this is Sierra-098. Can you hear me?"

"Affirmative, Reclaimer. It is good to hear your voice! Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"I need you to relay your command of the port-midship hanger-bay's Sentinels and Enforcer to me. Is this possible?"

"Of course, Reclaimer. Tactical battle strategies against the Meddlers is not my domain. Protocol dictates that if a Reclaimer can offer better tactical battle strategies than I, then command of my mobile forces are to go to the Reclaimer if they so require it."

"Thanks. Out."

"Heavy weapon specialists are in position, sir," Sacher reported. "awaiting new order."

"Have the designated marksmen set up position in the hanger-bay control room. Their targets are Elites and Jackals first – Brutes, too, if they're present. Elites are always the first target."

Sacher nodded as Ferrara sent the orders out, her strong voice carrying a high level of authority in it.

"Riflemen, sir?" Sacher asked.

"They are to take up position behind the emergency cover barricades on the deck of the bay. Their primary targets are the Grunts, but keeping the Elites busy so the marksmen can get a lock is also a priority. Additionally, have your scouts take up position near the heavy weapon specialists' assigned location. Their targets are Jackals or unshielded Elites."

"Brutes, sir? Drones, too; what's going to be done about them?" Sacher asked, Ferrara sending the orders through their unified TEAMCOM.

"The scouts are to target the Brutes, but riflemen are free to engage when possible. Drones are of the riflemens' responsibility, and I don't want to see the scouts targeting them unless they absolutely have to. Hunters also raise concern. Have the heavy weapon's specialists target them if they have a visual. Grenades from the riflemen will be directed at the Hunters as well."

Ferrara got to sending the orders as Sacher asked me another question. "What about our flanks, sir?"

"The Sentinels will guard your Marines' flanks and will focus on taking out the Phantom's turrets as well as bringing the energy shields of Elites or point defense gauntlets of Jackals down. They'll also maintain flanking tactics. The Enforcer will work on bombarding the ground forces."

Sacher nodded, Ferrara sending out the orders. "Anything else, sir?" Sacher asked.

Alexander turned to face Larson and Yoplap. Larson had a look about him that said he knew that the person he was looking at wasn't me. "The Constrictor is to grab a sniper rifle from an emergency weapon locker and join the other marksmen."

Larson was about to protest when Alexander cut him off with a sharp gesture of his hands. "I understand your skills revolve around stealth, but your skills are sharpened to perfection in all fields. Right now, sniper coverage is one of the most vital advantages we can have."

Larson nodded, not continuing his protest.

"Uh... um... what about me?" Yoplap asked.

"You're to join the Marine riflemen on the deck. You're primary and mandatory targets are the Elites and Jackals; take their shields down if you can-"

Yoplap began shaking his head, holding his hands up in denial. "Me no wanna fight! Great Journey false! Nothing in death but darkness."

Alexander tilted his head. "You haven't resisted fighting before, Grunt."

"Me have no choice around Elites; they mean! Me now have choice! Dav protect me!" Yoplap explained frantically, scared shitless at the prospect of fighting. They only had the courage to fight by knowing that they would be rewarded for doing so. Now they – or this single one – had no reason to fight.

"Your efforts in combat will be vital for the survival of the Marines down on deck-"

Yoplap shook his head, shaking frantically. "No, no! Me no wanna fight! Me no wanna die!"

Alexander turned to Larson. "It relies on you to give the final word. You understand how vital the addition of this Grunt in combat is, correct?"

Larson shook his head. "Yoplap's intelligent enough to realize how easy it is for Grunts to fall on the battlefield. I won't force him to fight."

Alexander took a defiant step forward. "_I _am in command of this situation – and you _will _follow _my_ command!" _(This grows tiresome. The main of this form can finish assigning orders.)_

Alexander let out a grunt as he was relieved of command of my body, control returning to me. As soon as I could move my body, I gave Larson a thumbs up to reassure him that I was me, and turned to tend to the Sentinels and Enforcers. I heard Larson tell Yoplap that he didn't have to fight, the Grunt letting out baffled yaps in response.

"Sacher, Ferrara, regroup with your riflemen. Don't break positions," I told the Marines, coming to a stop in front of the Enforcer and the hundred Sentinels that had formed up to receive my orders – commanded to do so by the Monitor, Fleighted Fire. "Enforcer, your targets are any Covenant ground forces. Bombard the hell out of them. If there's no ground forces, wait until more come, or take out the dropships until more appear **– **turrets are the first to be targeted on the dropships."

The Enforcer said something that came through as nothing but heavy metallic beeps as it took up position. Next were the Sentinels. "Sentinels, break up into seven squadrons," Like perfect soldiers, they did just that. "Squad one," I pointed to the appropriate squad. "Reinforce the left flank. Squad two, the same with the right. Squad three, four and five will focus on taking out the Phantom's turrets and – if the turrets are not of concern – attack the Phantoms themselves. If the Phantoms are not present, focus on the ground forces – only till another Phantom appears. I want you to be rational with your targets; no attacking the same Phantom. The rest of you are to focus on flanking the ground forces and bringing the shields of the Elites and Jackals down. If Elites and Jackals aren't present, then target Grunts. If none of the aforementioned contacts are possible to target, shift your attack to the Phantoms – but only until more ground forces appear." I gave the Sentinels a final nod, signalling the end of my four/eleven.

With everything and everyone in position, I hurried to a nearby weapon locker, grabbing a BR55 and several mags of ammo, stuffing the mags into any free ammo slot on the belt that ran diagonally across my torso. Along with the BR55 mags was ammo for my M6D, MA5C and several different types of grenades. I took the liberty to stock up as much as possible when I was at the armory.

I hoped my – or Alexander's – efforts to organize everyone/everything into battle positions hadn't gone to waste. But the chances of the Covenant – or whatever they were – entering the ship via the hanger-bays was high.

Anticipation was in the air. Some of the Marines were twitching uncontrollably. This had to be a massive blow to their moral; believing they were _so _close to home, and now they were stuck here, facing almost certain death. Nai was wise in deciding not to tell any of the Marines about it; if Moral got any lower, I doubted any of the Marines would actually be able to fight.

Ironically, my assignment of the Marines and Forerunners couldn't had ended any sooner. Not even four minutes of waiting passed before two Phantoms were visible on the other side of the large glass shielding that covered the massive doors that covered the opening of the hanger. They had two options now, and they _annoyingly_ chose the one I had been anticipating, and the most deadly one – they knew this, too.

Instead of using boarding umbilicals, they resorted to breaking the glass – Covenant loved to break things that were crafted by Humans. Both of the Phantom's fired plasma salvos at their respective glass shieldings, the plasma burning away and shattering the glass. Not even the thickest glass was impervious to plasma burning, and soon enough, the glass shieldings of the giant bay doors shattered completely, showering the giant metal beams that held the glass in place with tiny shards.

The Phantoms didn't waste any time in scurrying into the hanger-bay, halting and letting off the suspected barrage of plasma – all of which had no effect since Alexander organized the Marines into cover. While the Phantoms fired their turrets, the three Lances I was anticipating leapt from the bays of the Phantom, smacking down on the ground.

The Lance's ranks consisted of what would be considered typical of Covenant structure. Each Lance was led by two Elites clad in rusting, brown armor, wearing leather or cloth tunics instead of the usual under-suit that the Covenant wore. Each Elite wielded either a plasma rifle, carbine, needler rifle, needler or an odd-looking weapon that looked similar to a carbine in shape, but shot out plasma.

Each Lance had six Grunts – all of which wielded plasma pistols, needlers or plasma rifles, and lacking any clothing other than the tank that was strapped to their back with a tube connecting from their tank to their nostril. Some wore gas masks and had cloth tunics to conceal their skin, but that was about all.

The Jackals consisted of the normal Jackals – equipped with carbines, needler rifles or point defence gauntlets while wielding a plasma pistol, plasma rifle or needler – Skirmishers – equipped with the same loadout as Jackals but having two, smaller point defense gauntlets and also wielding a focus rifle that the Jackals lacked – and the species of Kig-Yar that I liked to call "Iguanas" – who were outfitted the same as the Jackals, but more used long-range weapons over using point defense gauntlets.

The Kig-Yars and their collective cousins were also outfitted crudely. The Jackals wore mainly cloth tunics with leather straps holding pieces of metal to their armor. Some Jackals even wore their equivalent of chainmail. The Iguanas wore more heavier armor.

Some of the races wore armor that resembled Covenant architecture, but most was just armor worn by their own races – not developed by the engineers' of the Covenant. Their weapon models also varied with some used during the earliest days in the war to ones that I had never seen before. I spotted four versions of the plasma rifle.

Leading two Lances – one from each Phantom – was what I guessed to be an Elite Major. These "Majors" wore more heavier, cleaner armor that as silver with two fins running along the centers of their helmets. Unlike the "Minors" who wore either leather or cloth tunics, the Majors wore leather only. One even wielded a concussion rifle – a weapon used mainly by those of a higher rank in the Covenant military structure.

The Majors' Lances had more noticeable individuals. The Grunts, Jackals, Iguanas and Skirmishers wore more armor, and had more effective weapons of a newer version. The Grunts seemed less agitated when opening fire on our positions, and the Jackals, Skirmishers and Iguanas moved faster to supporting positions than the others of their race in other Lances. The Elite Majors even sent out orders to the Minors leading the other Lances.

Crude as their tech was, their ranks held to that of the Covenant.

Almost immediately, two rockets went spiraling towards the Phantoms, on a locked-on course to the turrets. One turret on each Phantom went down, yet still the dropships didn't leave; preferring to remain and provide support for their ground forces.

I snapped out of cover, BR in hands, targeting the nearest Major. The _ring _of a sniper firing sounded off nearby, and the Major went down, purple blood squirting out of the two holes in its head all over the deck and its Lance members.

Shifting aim, I targeted a Minor. Two three-rounds bursts bought its shields down with a final burst slitting open its throat, sending it tumbling back, gagging on the ground as its Lance fell into panic only to be quickly bought back together by the other Minor leading the Lance.

Their shields were weak. A few shots were bringing them down which supported my silent claim that these bastards were using rehashed tech – probably from several hundred years ago. The tech was flimsy enough to be hundreds of years old.

Didn't bother me. The Covenant didn't put up a decent fight, but they went down fast – which was what mattered. Shifting aim to the second Minor, I shot off three bursts, killing it in a matter of seconds, sending its Lance into a panic. I left the panicking Grunts and Jackals – Jackals being the term I used when describing all three of the Kig-Yar races in my head – to the riflemen.

Immediately, I switched my aim to look for the other Major, but found it lying in a pool of purple blood, its head split open like a melon. Clearly the snipers were doing their job well; targeting the Majors was always a smart move. These Marines knew their Covenant – they had to in order to be drafted to the _Kryptonite._

Shifting aim, I found that all the Elites were either dead or dying and the Phantoms had bugged out after their third turret being taken down – the second already being taken out by the Sentinels.

I quickly helped the riflemen and Sentinels in mopping up the remaining Grunts and Jackals. Assessing the situation afterwards, I found no casualties. Unless the Covenant bought in something bigger, the odds would continue to go in our favor.

Deep inside me, I hoped for a challenge. My heartbeat had gotten faster when the two Phantoms came in earlier, and it wasn't out of fear.

I was excited. I was excited to fight.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Thel 'Lodam)<strong>**

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[Unknown, 2555]****

****[TIME]********-********[Unknown]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite's **_******Medical Bay, Unknown Overall Location]****

* * *

><p>If things were to get better, sometimes, they had to escalate.<p>

I murdered people; killed those who did not deserve to die, and inflicted pain onto the Humans. Did they deserve the pain? They allowed the destruction of Vale's fleet; allowed thousands to die who did not deserve it.

But was that not one Human? Driven mad by emotions? I should had cried in that elevator; let all my emotions clear my mind, and refresh myself. Instead, I was stubborn, and I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement until I could not tell who was friend and who was foe.

"Damn," Adam Franti growled as we entered the medical bay, my mandibles gritting together as pain still flooded my wrists. "The medical bay's breached."

I saw it, too. A large breach in the ship's hull was right in the most inconvenient places, and since the Covenant were looking for any way into the ship, this spoke levels of danger.

"Quickly." Vale urged, carrying me over to a medical slab with one of Qrs' operatives, Krnat 'Xerosai, also carrying me, my arm wrapped around his and Vale's shoulder.

Placing me on the slab, Krnat grabbed one of my wrists while the other operative, Nrex 'Jqunelai, grabbed my other, letting out a chuckle as I growled in pain. They had a right to be angry; I killed their comrade. Such a sin was despicable, and I was surprised they had the self-control to refrain from killing me – then again, they were assassins, and assassins had to be master's of self-control.

Qrs came over, a needle of Forerunner design in hand. I couldn't resist closing my eyes as he slid the needle into the vein of my right wrist, the tiny "Nanobots" scurrying around inside my arm, repairing my broken bones. I would come to admire the Forerunner's medical efficiency, but right now, I would scream.

"Suck it up, princess," Rick Cylus bitterly said. "Thought you were baddass and all. Guess not, huh?"

"Rick," Adam Franti placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough."

"No," Vale said, tightening his grip on my shoulder as the pain got worse, the pressure of his grip giving me some relief. "Thel has accepted any hostility with pride, and will allow your comrades to speak their mind."

"I have one protest," I said between grunts of pain, the pain dying down and feeling returning to my hands. "and that is you end your verbal assault. Your words have no effect on my emotional state, and are empty. Rather, keep your anger and use it on the Covenant so we might live their onslaught, and then you can do something with more a deeper impact."

"Like what?" Toless Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

"I will kneel before you," I turned to face Qrs. "You, too. If you desire it so, you may end my life – but _do not _waste my abilities. Let me fight and assist you through this so you might all live to see vengeance extracted."

"Sounds good to me." Toless Morgan agreed.

"No," Qrs turned to face the Human warriors. "the effects of him living exceed those of him dead."

"I understand your words, Qrs," Vale added, turning his gaze to the Humans. "Thel can take from his own experiences with what the restrictions of honor can inflict, and use it to sway others from the same path."

Adam Franti tightened his grip on Rick Cylus' shoulder. "You heard him; you _will not _touch 'Lodam, understood."

Rick Cylus nodded, Toless Morgan relaxing himself. "Understood." Toless Morgan said.

"Flex your fingers." Qrs told me.

Doing as he asked, I felt a minor pain and stiffness in my wrists, but I could fight. "Putting aside the minor stiffness and pain, I can fight."

There was a roaring sound – a Phantom. "You may need to." Vale said, raising his carbine in unison with the Humans at the large breach in the wall – also the hull – of the medical bay as Qrs and his two operatives dragged me off the slab just as a Phantom hovered down in front of the breach, a Unggoy manning the turret of the Phantom bay opening fire.

"Pull back!" Adam Franti ordered, waving for his men to exit the medical bay as he shot at the Unggoy, lowering himself behind a nearby desk to avoid the fire..

Qrs pulled out his plasma rifle, taking cover behind the slab and opening fire as Nrex and Krnat helped me up and hurried me towards the entrance of the medical bay.

"Adam Franti, leave." Vale urged, slowing backing away, his energy shields flaring with plasma sizzling the air around him, all fire from our side only hitting the turret the Unggoy was manning and not the Unggoy itself.

"Right-"

Adam Franti was cut short when a plasma round hit his face, sending him flying back into the wall that flanked the entrance, blood pouring from the charred flesh on his head as he slid down the wall, slumping over when he slid to the ground, back leaning against the wall. There was no way he survived the round.

Vale let out a growl of frustration as he hurried out of the medical bay, me, Krnat and Nrex exiting as he did with Qrs coming in quickly behind us, plasma making our energy shields flare and the air around us to be hot with energy, the floor blackening due to the Unggoy's terrible aim – an aim that did not save Adam Franti.

I would probably be dead as well, but lived due to Qrs and his operatives equipping my armor as we moved to the medical bay earlier, getting most of the work done when we had to halt for Adam Franti to rip some fabric from his fatigues and use it to bandage my wounds. They avoided equipping my arm and wrist armor, but had to, unfortunately, move my arms to get my torso armor on – the armor piece that held the device that emitted my energy shields.

"Where's Adam?" Toless asked, shocked by not seeing his comrade with us as we came to a stop in the safety of the corridor, plasma rounds still being shot through the entrance of the medical bay as if the Unggoy suspected us to be waiting there.

"Dead," Vale said as softly as he could, putting his hands up to calm them down, but failing when Rick Cylus collapsed onto the floor, Toless Morgan's eye widening as he froze. "It was not a case that could have been avoided, but a case of pure chance on the Unggoy's part. I _am _sorry."

Rick Cylus began gagging when he failed to withhold his emotions further and Toless Morgan just stared at the entrance to the medical bay, not even blinking, but the tears coming out of his eyes making his resistance of doing so fail.

I turned my head back towards the entrance of the medical bay when my motion detector on my battle display started beeping – the others did the same. The Covenant were pursuing us through the hull breach.

"We must go." Vale urgently said, picking Rick Cylus back up onto his feet and checking to make sure Toless Morgan was following – which he was, Qrs quickly nudging Toless Morgan onward.

We hurried up to a junction up ahead, snapping around to the cover of the walls which flanked the entrance that connected the corridor we just came from up to junction, weapons ready for when we leaned out of cover.

"Humans, stay back," Vale put his hand up to halt the Humans who had taken cover behind me. "Whether you admit it or not, your minds are not themselves – I know. Trust me, and stay idle – it's best for all.

There was the sounds of distant screeching. The bird-like sounds were recognisable; Ruuhtians, Ibie'shans and T'vaoans. There was also the yaps of Unggoy, but no sound of my own tongue. They were our-of-range, so my translation device for the Unggoy and Kig-Yar didn't come into effect, and I couldn't understand what they were saying.

Nothing more was needed hearing when the sound of flesh ripping was heard. Moments later, a loud _squawk _from a Ruuhtian was heard, and a rolling sound followed suite, quickly unmasking to be Adam Franti's head rolling into the junction, blood pooling from the stump and three large, deep scratches from a Kig-Yar claw running along the front of his face. To add more to their attempted shock, the Kig-Yar pried his mouth and eyes open to make out as if he were in shock and pain; as if he were still alive when they mutilated him.

"FUCK!" Rick Cylus growled, stumbling back as Toless Morgan froze again.

Qrs signalled for me to keep them idle before activating his cloak along with his two operatives and going around the corners of the junction, heading towards the Kig-Yars and Unggoy.

No gunfire was heard, so the bastards mustn't had heard or seen them. What was eventually heard was loud screeches from the Kig-Yar and panicked barks from the Unggoy. The screeching and barking died down, but the screeching didn't fully end. It got closer in sound, and my translator began working.

"Why are you here?" A translated Kig-Yar voice came through. "Are you some of 'Vadam's pets? Are you cowards working for the Humans?"

Qrs, Krnat and Nrex appeared back around the corner, each having both of their hands wrapped around the necks of a Kig-Yar. Six in total. Qrs and his two operatives dragged the struggling creatures in front of Toless Morgan and Rick Cylus.

Qrs addressed the Kig-Yar, the cold dread invoking voice of his catching the Kig-Yar's attention. "Speak the names of who did the atrocity, and you those who did not participate will die quickly. If names are not given, you will all die painfully."

Four of the Kig-Yar answered with two names in unison while the two **– **whose names I guessed were the ones told to us **– **said nothing.

Qrs and his operatives tightened their grip around the throats of the Kig-Yar who spoke out until their throats crushed, and the assassins let the bodies of the dead Kig-Yar drop to the ground. The other two Kig-Yar were bought, shaking, before Toless Morgan and Rick Cylus. They were Ibie'shans – which explained their brutality.

"We haven't got time for this!" Toless Morgan protested, his words carrying agitation in them.

"Three minutes **– **that's all we need." Rick Cylus said, drawing his dagger from its sheath on his armor, between his neck and left shoulder, making the Kig-Yar snap at him aggressively.

"No – I can't inflict pain ever again." Toless Morgan shook his head, his single heart booming so loud that I could hear it from where I was.

"You don't have to," Rick Cylus replied, almost growling. "Just close your eyes and cover your ears."

I turned to Vale for his input – which was often wise. Vale saw the world from the sky – it was a trait of his that no one would want him without.

"I'm sorry, Thel," Vale told me, attracting the attention of everyone. "I will not intervene."

"I will clock you, Human – three moments, no more." Qrs told Rick Cylus, the Human giving Qrs a respectful nod as he bought his dagger to bear.

"Izac!" Toless Morgan grunted, grabbing Rick Cylus' arm away from the Kig-Yar, turning his comrade to face him, shifting the scheme of his visor so his face could be seen. "I know you want to do this, but a one-off – for survival or personal pleasure – _always _leads to you wanting more. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to do what I did – you know that."

Rick Cylus nodded. I could tell that the name Toless Morgan called Rick Cylus by seemed to get through his barricade of blinding emotions. "Human," I took a step forward. "I have no right to advise you, but know that it was emotions such as the seeking of vengeance that drove me to the state in which I murdered your friend."

Rick Cylus nodded, not annoyed at my nerve to add my own words, turning to face the Kig-Yar. "Looks like this is your lucky day."

The Kig-Yar, of course, couldn't understand Rick Cylus, and only tilted their heads in Qrs' and Nrex's grips. They wouldn't have time to consider what their foe was saying; Qrs and Nrex tightened their grip until the force of the grip crushed the throat of the two Ibie'shans. No one could survive Sangheili strength.

"Come," Vale said, hurrying across the break where the corridor connected to the junction, joining up with us. "More Lances will follow."

"Adam's dogtags," Rick Cylus took a step towards Vale, defiance in his eyes. "If you _truly _respected him, then let us go get them."

"We can retrieve them at a later time," I interjected, obviously annoying Rick Cylus. "but now is no time for such meaningless endeavours."

The Human snapped me a glare, defiance fuelling the anger in his eyes. "We are _not _leaving without them!"

I turned back around to face Vale. The death of his Human friend had seemed have affected him greatly. He wasn't speaking much, and seemed focused on something else; his eye fixed on a certain place, but not staring – studying. Whatever he was studying had his attention held, and he walked out into the gap that connected the corridor we just came from up to the junction, his eyes looking forward, at the corridor that was opposite the one we just came from.

Defeated, I turned back to face the struggling Human – who was trying to get past Qrs and his operatives to go get these "Dogtags", Toless Morgan absent-minded as the gravity of the situation finally hit him. I wouldn't stand down, though; now was not the time for such diversions. "Your comrade would not wish you dead over him-"

"_Don't _pretend you know _anything _about Adam!" Rick Cylus snapped, knocking Nrex's arm aside when he tried to grab him and stop him from taking a step towards me. "You don't know shit 'bout him!"

"Enough," Vale finally intervened, his mind recovered. "T-"

He was cut off when two beam rounds deflected off of his shields, making them flare and forcing him back behind cover as his shields disrupted. Unfortunately, the nearest cover for him was the wall he was in cover behind earlier **– **the one horizontal to the wall we were in cover behind which served to make up the large doorway bordered of the entrance to the junction from the corridor leading to the medical bay.

Grabbing Rick Cylus, I dragged him back away from the open area, resisting the urge to return the hits he was landing on me to make me let him go **– **he either wanted me to let him go so he could retreat himself, or wanted me to let him go so he could go after his comrade's dogtags.

"Vale!" I called out after pushing Rick Cylus back, rushing over to the edge of the border wall we were in cover behind, peering out of cover to see that a Lance of T'vaoan had managed to sneak up on us, moving without a sound so we could not tell they were there. The corridor was long, so they were out of range of our motion detectors when they attacked us with their beam rifles – both new and old models.

"I'm fine." He reassured me, his shields recharging.

Leaning out of cover, raising my carbine, I opened fire on the T'vaoan in the distant, finding it hard to hit them as they moved too fast, and quickly got behind cover when I fired. T'vaoan were known to be fast and stealthy. They managed to ambush us from a position that we could had easily seen them from if we were looking in that direction.

"Vale, I'll suppress them, you get over here as fast as you can!" I told him, leaning back into cover, reloading before preparing to lean out again.

Vale nodded. "On your command."

I snapped back out of cover, several beams of energy hitting the corner pillar I was behind, blackening the Human metal. "Now!'

Vale left his cover as I opened fire, pinning the T'vaoan down.

These weren't Covenant soldiers – nor heretics. T'vaoan didn't serve a big enough part in the Covenant special forces to have energy shields. But _these_ T'vaoan _had_ energy shields, and feigned entering cover to give us the false sense of security.

They succeeded, and pulled off their tactic...

Seven beams fired at Vale, three missing but the other four hitting, disrupting his shields. Another shot followed afterwards, hitting Vale in the neck and sending him flying to the direction the round that hit him was going. He slid to the ground, onto his front, his arms flailing to get himself up, but not making any progress as he couldn't get his arms under his body.

My two hearts dropping, I hurried out of cover, grabbed Vale and began dragging him back into cover as another beam hit him in his ribs while another scraping along his back.

"...No." Krnat quietly said.

Turning Vale over onto his back, my eyes teared up when I saw him gagging and choking on the blood that flooded out of his mouth and through his mandibles, grabbing at me for support and aid, squirming uncontrollably as blood squirted from the wound on his neck, every limb of his shaking and contracting violently.

Applying pressure to his wound, my composure broke, and I began panicking as his blood squirted all over me. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, no, Gods, please no!"

Keeping my arms wrapped around him with my hands firmly placed on the small, deep entry wound of the beam round, I leaned Vale up, letting the blood in his throat spill out onto the ground to prevent him from choking on it while turning to face the two Humans, Qrs and his operatives who all stared in shock at the sight. "GET HELP!" I pointed to the opening that Vale just crossed, quickly withdrawing my hand and reapplying it to Vale's wound, my arm having to dodge both of Vale's which flailed around uncontrollably. "MEDICAL AID IS JUST DOWN THERE!"

Qrs shook his head. "Too late."

I hated to admit it, but he was right. A major artery was severed, and Vale would be dead in a mere moment. Although I managed to keep blood from flowing out of his wound on his neck, to some extent, it was flooding out of his mouth and nostrils, drenching both me and him in purple blood. I wouldn't- _couldn't _leave his side to get aid, and the others were not planning on taking the risk to get past the T'vaoans' aim. Neither of the Humans had any medical aid on them, as well. Fate seemed to have damned Vale.

All I could do was turn around from the group and lower my gaze to Vale who was still squirming in my arms, his body moving in violent contortions. I removed his helmet and tried my best to stop the bleeding. All Vale could to was struggle as the life left him, grabbing at me in some type of attempt for aid, his muscles making his limbs contract violently as his body shook in shock, his left arm finally grabbing my right shoulder with a tight grip caused by his muscles tightening which in turn made all of his digits clench.

"Vale, Vale," I removed my helmet with a single free hand so his eyes could lock onto mine – which they did immediately, tears pouring from his eyes. "Brother, just... I'm... I'm right here, right here. Don't..."

Vale tried to say something, but only purple bubbles appeared from his throat followed by gags, his mandibles quivering and twitching, violently, in shock and sadness at the knowledge that he was about to die.

"Just... Just..." My breath left me and tears fell as my voice broke, pain searing through me as Vale's grip on my shoulder loosened as he let out a sad gagging sound. "Don't... Vale..."

Vale's rapid breathing finally ceased, his grip on my shoulder releasing and his arm falling down onto his side as he went limp, his eyes still staring at me, but devoid of life...

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

This chapter was a bitch to write. Originally, I planned for the battle to take place outside the ship, but after writing around five play-outs of it, I gave up and decided to make it take place inside the ship. Learnt a lesson: I'm not good a doing open-scale battles.

This chapter was also a bitch for obvious reasons...

Thanks go out to Caimotto1, Soul's Release and Trusne for deciding to follow. I've already made Soul's OC (Tyler Woodrow) who will have more of an appearance later. If either of the other two want an OC, please leave a single review so I know that you haven't just followed and left with the intentions to come back and read it later - nothing wrong with it as I do it too.

Thanks go out to The Constitutionalist for pointing out some annoying typos while also bringing up a minor mishap as to the status of T'Rakas who never showed up.

If you spot any typos or lore mistakes (or any mistake in general) please tell me in a P.M or a review. Please also review with words on what you think and providing feedback. I won't lie: this story's been manipulated for the better by those who review, and I know personally that the knowledge of knowing that you changed something is awesome!

Rambling aside, thanks for reading... I'm going to go cry in a corner now.


	46. Special Two: Love to Hate

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:****

An explanation is in order, I believe. Did I not state that this would come after the shit had been cleaned from the fan? Yeah, I did. But, a problem occurred.

As some of you may know, Australia and schools have had a shit week. A lot has been going down on the news, and I wasn't ever far away from a TV during the certain, tragic events. Annoyingly, my desktop isn't anywhere near a TV, and I hate reading news' report articles. So I nabbed my dad's laptop and set it up in our living room so I could write while getting the latest on everything that was going down.

Unfortunately, while doing this, I had to move files to an external hardrive. Since I have OCD, I _needed_ to clean up the original copies of the files on my desktop to keep everything nice and clean, and in doing so, may have accidentally deleted the next chapter... I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I know that I messed up, and lost a ton of work, and since it's nearing Christmas, I'm busy, and actually getting time to sit down for a long writing session is rare. In other words, the lost chapter was a bitch to do.

Understandably, I'm a little pissed. And the prospect of having to re-write the ten or so pages I already did is daunting. I'm not looking forward to the repeating progress. So, instead, I decided to just work on this while my mind recovers from the very notion that I made a mess of things. After this special's release, I should be beginning work on the next chapter again after revising chapter three (Which shouldn't take long since it's around 5000 words) It's a damn shame; I think I was doing quite well with the next chapter. Now, the quality may be lowered out of a desire to get it over and done with.

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><p>They would all say that San'Shyuum lived life at ease.<p>

Those who spoke such words were either miss-informed or lying. The reasons for lying varied; heretics, political enemies... political friends...

Ending a trail-off, an appropriate answer to those who believed San'Shyuum life easy would be to scold them, and scold them hard. There was _nothing _easy or simple about the lives we lived, nothing at all. We may have been above all others in the status quo, but we were both looked and frowned down upon by every other race.

In pursuing a career, many San'Shyuum males went no further than politics; becoming Staffers or Clerics. What else awaits one of a particular race with such skills in speech and cunning?

The San'Shyuum were bred for being natural leaders. How the Sangheili managed without us, the superior race, was lost to me; shrouded among the many mysteries of the past. So many dedicated themselves to solving these mysteries of the past, and I was not among those with the mentality required for the dedication.

I was a San'Shyuum who needed results as soon as I asked for them. Having the patience required for solving past mysteries was not something I had, nor cared to have.

Born to Marko and Vresina Lys'Slalan on the Covenant holy city of _High Charity,_ I was named Zarzara'x Lys'Slalan. Being of a wealthy and well-known family, my upbringing was prosperous, and I was raised knowing that I would receive anything I asked for. The reality that not _everything _I asked for would be permitted to me kindled more shock than I ever had, since or otherwise, and to this cycle, I blame my parents for feeding me such a pitiful ideology.

Despite certain things being out of my reach, I still strode to _always _get what I wanted. I was not afraid to work for my goals, and much of my life, I had to; working harder than field Unggoy in attaining progression. Such a requirement of me turned me cynical and bitter. I hated those who had more than me, and had a bitter resentment of those who were lesser than me. They had lesser because they weren't strong enough to gain more! Such a lack of commitment was despicable.

In the earliest rotations of my life, I was bought up by my father to consider the lesser races your subordinates. They were nothing more than servants for your desires who would be rewarded with a place to walk on the Great Journey. Even the Sangheili were non-equivalent to the much superior San'Shyuum.

But deep down, I always despised my father and the viewpoints he inflicted unto me. He expected me to follow him into the role of politics. I had no quarrels pursing my father's ambitions, and becoming a Staffer was my only goal in my early life, and one I was keen to achieve. But despite this, I had the confidence that I would go further if I garnered the respect of the Councils and Ministries, even though I believed all to just be corrupt politicians who deserved nothing more than a death not even fit for a raging Lekgolo.

My father rebuked this, saying that fear is grander than respect. Being feared meant that those loyal to you were less likely to act against your favor. An example of this happened once when an Unggoy servant stole from our housing compartment on _High Charity. _ Such an act was punishable by death, and death would be the Unggoy's fate, otherwise was unprecedented and the anchor for sharp criticism. Wavering if the eyes of those lesser would have sever consequences for the future.

I argued with my father about the right for one to have a second chance. While I was bitter and cynical, I knew the Unggoy personally; it attended to my every need as I grew up, and I came to respect it for its service. The very idea that it stole from us made me doubt my father's integrity, but the evidence was strengthened by the Unggoy admitting to the crime immediately after being caught, harboring some type of loyalty for us yet. It had not been tortured or threatened, so I declared the theories to be thoughts of misconduct.

The Unggoy had to be punished; I agreed to that. But death? He served my family loyally, and such an act could be explained through interrogation, and a chance of redemption should had been given; why not? A household pet disobeys its master and gets a flogging to strengthen the master's dominance and to inflict upon it the correct standards expected of it. While a pet's only an animal, you couldn't blame the Unggoy for having a similar processor; they were, howbeit, intellectually pimitive.

My father was surprisingly calm when he heard my words, but denied them as words of false notion. He said that mercy was for the weak; for those who couldn't handle the concept of taking a life. My father relished in having the control over life and death, and initially, I believed his lack of the conviction to shed mercy was because he _actually _enjoyed taking life. This was a misjudgment; he was far more perfect than I ever believed at the time.

He told me that if you grant mercy to one, others would follow in their footsteps, believing that if they were apprehended, they would be granted mercy, and would just stop then. Upon hearing this, I was skeptical, but I grew to understand as the preparations for the Unggoy's punishment grew. To prove my growing maturity in adapting to the grim reality of any circumstance, I offered to take the Unggoy's life, to show that I understood a certain coming of my father.

To my dismay, a swift execution wasn't suitable for the message my father wanted to send. I learnt then that there was no more morally diminishing punishment than brutality beating one to death before their peers. Of course, I didn't agree. I hated the weak, and the Unggoy was weak, but its service should have at least granted it some repayment. I didn't agree with using the natural weakness of pain against one, so even the aforementioned motives had little relevance.

The notion that I would be able to deter my father's plans was absurd. Instead, I only retracted my decision to execute the Unggoy. It wasn't even based on the fact that I didn't agree; I was San'Shyuum, and against my desires for the opposite, we lacked physical strength.

No Sangheili would except the task, and the High Council wouldn't punish the Sangheili Honor Guards that refused; it went against their honor which was an aspect of theirs that they would never relinquish, an honor I would come to despise and respect all in unison.

The Jiralhanae were yet to be absorbed into the Covenant at the time, so this only left the Kig-Yar. Their beating had more pain than was desired by even my father – I, at least, believed that; my father was no monster. The Jiralhanae had strength that even they couldn't control properly; were they summoned in the stead of the Kig-Yar, the Unggoy would be dead sooner rather than the undesirable later.

Our entire household – servants, family – all watched two massive Kig-Yar beat the Unggoy to death. They all learnt the outcome for betrayal, and as unethical as his methods were, my father succeeded in sending his message; no betrayal ever transpired again.

I learnt that morality held one back. I compared my father's actions to those of other families that prided themselves in using mercy to win love. I learnt that their mercy only left an opening for more crime. Garnering the love of your subordinates was for those who couldn't handle what needed to be done. Fear of your subjects and peers was much more valuable. It would damage your reputation, but then, it could also increase your relations with those of a similar mind – the entire San'Shyuum portion of the High Council, in other words. It could also guarantee the continuous control of your position; San'Shyuum had a natural tendency to react negatively to change.

It took a while for the statistics of the Unggoy's brutal execution to arise, and until so, I resented my father's actions, becoming even more cynical, believing that no one was clean of filth; no one was pure of soul. But as the time past by, a minor Ministry role became mine. My service as an Aide to the Minister of Fortitude, Ord Casto, taught me many things. Casto spent extra time in his routine to ripen me for politics.

I couldn't see it at the time, but Casto respected my ideology. He saw potential in me to be an excellent politician, and managed to convince me that my father's perception on reality was correct. He explained in detail the flaws and trumps of both our opinions. We quickly became close friends; our minds connected, and my acknowledgement that his and my father's unethical perspicacity were correct.

Revealing my misconceptions to my father was hard, but there was no lack of understanding on his part. We finally connected, our beliefs uniting to form the perfect relationship. Convinced that I was now ready for the tasks of a politician, he strived to assure my position, working alongside Casto to form a new role for me.

My lack of proper experience or exampling of my skills worked against my efforts. Like a slave trying to please his master, I was at the judgement of the High Council. I was never given the chance, my favor from the Hierarchs non-existent.

To become more, you had to prove yourself. That, or have the favor of the Hierarchs; they always had the final word. Despite my understanding of the correct proceeding through life, none acknowledged me, and I was as meaningless to those of high status. My hatred of those with more than me shone through, and I swore to prove all wrong before extracting vengeance, my father and Casto by my side.

When we first encountered Humanity, that was when the end began. Through beneficial connections, Casto had the Vice Minister of Tranquility, Lod Mron, blackmail the Prophet of Restraint, one of the three Hierarchs. The twos' aspirations to become more powerful took control, and they enacted on the risky chance to become Hierarchs. I was oblivious to their true intentions for a further couple cycles, but I learnt later of that, while they originally wanted power, their goals changed when discovering the truth that risked the foundations of the Covenant: our religion's premise was built on misconceptions. The Humans were Reclaimers. The Forerunners were _not _Gods.

At the time, I didn't turn an eye to Casto's ascension. Casto was a close friend of mine, and his success spoke levels on my own. Soon, he, Mron, and Philologist, Hod Rumnt – who they initially asked the blessing of – rose to the rank of Hierarchs after the three current Hierarchs stepped down by Mron's blackmailing. They took on the new titles of the Prophet of Truth, Regret and Mercy respectively before declaring war on Humanity, calling them an affront to the Gods and destroyer of reliquaries.

Now the Prophet of Truth, Casto needed a replacement for the Ministry of Fortitude. Unfortunately – and much to my anger and irritation – I was instead assigned as the Minister of Reliquary Dominion, a Ministry focusing in recovering and securing Forerunner artifacts and facilities that were too hazardous for the Zealots of the Ministry of Fervent Intercession. This required me leaving my comfort zone of _High Charity_, and being deployed to various different fleets that were all at risk of being destroyed by the Humans.

Thankfully, my new position – granted to me by the Hierarchs – was not put into effect for yet a time to come; the Human capabilities still being unknown, and the hazardous encounters by the Zealots being minimal; they were skilled, after all, and rarely admitted defeat. A prime example of Sangheili stubbornness. What annoyed me was how minor my Ministry was early in the war.

Now being a High Councillor, I could attain a title. As a contradiction to my output on mercy, I chose the title, "Prophet of Pity", believing it to be a smart choice; many Prophets chose titles that were strong with irony.

Perhaps it was to rearrange my position, perhaps it was for a friendly chat; it no longer matters. The Prophet of Truth invited me to his quarters with intentions I was excited to learn. He had been as busy as a worked Unggoy with his leadership tasks, and time for me was out of the question. But, when he summoned me for the first time since before his ascendancy, I returned to a stage of childhood imagination, fantasizing about the possibilities of him taking time off to speak to me; it was fact that Hierarchs lost past connections due to their tasks, and only supreme commitment to one would prevail the blockade of being the leader of the Covenant.

Remembering that I had not yet celebrated with Casto over his promotion, I decided to buy a casket of juicy sweets and a nice, large, ornament covered bottle of liquor native to our homeworld of Janjur Qom; some of the only preserved liquor from the world available, and very, _very _expensive.

Casto was my close friend; whether I liked it or not, he helped me for no positive outcome on his part other than to please me. I admired him... more so than I should've; I was treading on the ground of taboo. Nevertheless, surprising him with an early visit, carting treats would only make him more pleased with me – that is how I perceived it. I never found out if my assumption was correct, or severely false.

I arrived earlier than he anticipated. But... there was no way he didn't know of my presence; the dinging of his quarter's door opening, the obvious alert that the elevator to his quarters was in use he must of received from his anti-gravity throne. He knew I was there, yet, he did not cut off his communications with the Prophet of Regret and Mercy... I would soon find out why.

I heard a majority of their talk; heard what I deemed impossible. Afterwards, Truth ended the audio-only transmission, turning to see me standing in the arched doorway, treats in hand. There was no comprehensible way that he didn't know I was there, and I would prove to be correct.

Both acting as if nothing happened, we enjoyed our sweets until he receded any vagueness, and came straight out with his question, asking me what I knew of what had transpired. This finished the construction of the very foundation that he _wanted _me to learn.

There was no positive outcome in lying – there was no positive outcome in telling the truth, either, but it seemed like the best course of action, and I knew Casto didn't like being played the fool. I told him everything I knew, and he nodded, indifferent towards my knowledge before telling me it _all_.

The Covenant religion was a part of my life; it _was _my life. I didn't actively seek out ways to worship the Gods, but having not a single living moment pass without even a mention to why we live was impossible in the Covenant. Facts aside, I didn't react too kindly to the truth. Yes, I was composed in Truth's presence, but I was burning with rage inside, growing furious at my friend for his selfish acts.

Before I could break my silence and shun him for his actions, he explained the fate of the Covenant had he revealed the truth: the truth would cumulate into anarchy. More anarchy than the Covenant had ever faced; _it was the way the world ended_.

He explained that speaking even a whisper of the truth would shatter the Covenant, and that remaining silent would lead to one conclusion: the San'Shyuum would forever rule over the Covenant, and the Sangheili would no longer pose a threat. He already had close ties with the Chieftain of the Jiralhanae, Tartarus, and he explained his plans to eventually remove the Sangheili from their position as guardians of the Covenant after their use against Humanity had depleted, and replace them with the far more obedient Jiralhanae.

The plan was brilliantly designed – as was expected from Casto – but had its morality problems. He wanted to assure San'Shyumm dominance over the Covenant forever, and to do so, he would commit mass genocide. He told me that if I followed him, my power would breach the limits. He didn't tell me the consequences for my refusal, but I didn't need to know.

I agreed, fearing for my life, and Truth formulated a false story; he didn't want the other two to know that he allowed me to learn the truth, and instead wanted me for one task; the only reason he took me in. Not to give power to me nor repay my loyalty. He wanted me as a scapegoat.

I was known throughout the Covenant to be incredibly greedy; I thoroughly campaigned for my promotion, garnering influence among supporting High Councillors, but also attracting the public eye, and attaching the trait of being greedy to my reputation. Perhaps I was greedy, but it was not abnormal for San'Shyuum to desire more than they had. It was not greed, but instincts. But even if I were greedy, I still considered myself a San'Shyuum of more quality than most, if not all.

The story was crafty, and set me up as the perfect scapegoat. He told me that to get more respect from Mercy and Regret, he had to fabricate a false, private sense of hatred towards me. He told me that he pretended to despise me in the eyes' of Regret and Mercy. I hoped that he actually was pretending, but I would never know. He also planned to tell Regret and Mercy that I discovered the truth through espionage – to shield the wraith he would get for sluggishly allowing me to know the truth – and that the only reason I was not to be executed was because my influence in the High Council was of a mass that my sudden death or assassination would bring about unwanted questions. He also told me that he planned to inform Regret and Mercy that I'm a part of their conspiracy group because he offered me something in return, using my "Greed" as another output for blame.

I agreed to Casto's terms, having no alternative. I knew I what I was becoming, and that was when my hatred of him began. Did he really intend to give me a proper position? The way he was willing to lie to Regret and Mercy made me consider the possibility that he wanted _full _control of the Covenant. Why would he share it with me? I may had been his friend, but the fact that he purposely allowed me to find out all this only to use it to manipulate me into becoming his scapegoat told me that he cared not for what I desired.

I thought on betraying Truth, on addressing the High Council without his knowledge or consent, and breaking the deadly secret to the Covenant. But as I considered the outcomes, I worried that the Sangheili would go mad with a blood-lust. Casto had already lied like a bastard, so how would the Sangheili react? By the time I came to the conclusion of exposing the truth, it was too late. Cycles had passed during my fixation, and many had died during the war. If I revealed the truth now, I would died as well. I acted slower than a crippled Unggoy. I condemned the Covenant to something so sinful. Why? Because I didn't desire to die; I was scared of death, so, I acted selfishly, and in doing so, made myself the biggest monster in the universe.

Reluctantly, I had to comply with Truth's orders, doing all he asked of me for cycles. I grew to hate him more when he actually started speaking to me like I was nothing to him in communications with each other. This was no plan for masking his friendship with me for if Mercy or Regret somehow saw the letters, audio communications and recordings of visits, no. Truth genuinely hated me, hated me like I hated everything else.

The stress of holding the truth in overcame me. I passed other Councillors, they showing respect and trust towards me. They had no idea what I carried on my back, and I couldn't stand people acting so kind to me when I was betraying them so. I hated myself, and I wanted others to hate me as well. I wanted to get what I deserved; I wanted to be hated.

Arrogance was one of the major sins for any politician. To become hated and despised, I had to act like my new-found position had poisoned my mind. I had to hate everyone and everything like a plague so they could hate me in return. How could I accomplish this? Consider myself superior to everyone and everything.

I began campaigning for more acknowledgement of my duties, for a full rotation dedicated to me as I was so important – not really, though, but the facade worked. I began using a third person addition to whenever I referred to myself, always calling myself, "the holy Prophet of Pity" and it worked, it sent people ablaze with hatred towards me, made me be resented by all who existed, made my friends... my family disown me as nothing more than a corrupt politician. The stress of having so much concealed from them was relieved to an extent, and it felt like everyone knew of what I hid, and hated me for it.

It pained me, though, to treat those I loved, respected, trusted and admired with hatred and many more despicable acts. How many times had I resisted not crying when one of my closest friends called me an abomination? The pain was all I deserved for waiting so long to reveal the truth, and ultimately failing in doing so. I deserved it for letting the fear of death overcome what was right. Causing physical harm would raise questions from my concubines – I lacked a wife, being on the Roll of Celibates – so I had to resort to committing anguish on myself, and while hard, I felt relieved in knowing that everyone rightfully hated me. Even my concubines showed disgust when around me which fed me more pleasure than any act of theirs could.

Far into the war with Humanity, when I was the peak of controversy, I was finally assigned by Truth to the Second Fleet of Divine Trinity, under the command of Vale Nar 'Sarasee. I saw through this; Truth wanted only to remove me to somewhere away from the political atmosphere. That, or he desired me dead. The latter was more likely; my use was finally up.

Even so, I was not sent alone. A Jiralhanae Chieftain, Literus, was sent with me, as the leader of my private security force. I was not fooled by Truth's words; Literus was to keep me in line and prevent me from speaking against his favor. Literus was with me wherever I went, so, if I spoke out of line, my life would end, and I had not yet given up on life yet.

As the years of service in the fleet passed, my stress gradually grew. I started questioning why I was living if I was only to die one day. Why did I not just speak earlier? Sure, I would die young, but I would preserve so many in return. I was blind not to have seen this sooner, and at the modern time, it was already too late.

I would've opened up, but, I still wanted to live, and I had a chance to shed light on Truth, Mercy and Regret's conspiracy and still live out the rest of my days without the risk of death. That chance was Vale Nar 'Sarasee. But first, before I could tell him the truth, I had to rid myself of Literus.

The chance came with Halo. 'Sarasee's fleet attacked a Human system, and in that system, we invaded each Human world. On one world, my chance arrived; a portal to a Halo ring. I had to act fast, to prevent its activation, but I would still try and keep myself alive. While I waited, however, I had to deal with the notion that thousands were dying as I wasted time. But, Literus was a master Jiralhanae; he could detect stress, agitation... he could smell fear. Even if I summoned 'Sarasee to tell him, Literus would know.

I had my chance, but... I came across signs of my insanity. There was only so much stress I could take from hiding such a devastating secret, and it escalated. I felt like my arrogance was natural, that it was who I was. All the hatred and aggression I acted, it start to feel real... when Thel 'Lodam was bought before me...

If one pretends to be something they're not, it is only a matter of time before that one's mind convinces itself that it _is _what it's been pretending to be. Sangheili were never meant to be servants, yet, they were. Unggoy weren't created to be slaves or warriors, but it is what they believe they were.

I acted an insane politician, and, what did I become?

When the missing operative in service to my Ministry came before me, I was still at risk from Literus' Captain Ultras; skilled as Literus, they were, and I would not evade their awareness. Yet, it was not concern for my own life that deterred my efforts to expose the truth and survive, it was the false belief that I was what I despised.

I had the power of life and death in my hands, and I became what I feared my father was. Like a monster only native to Janjur Qom, my mind went into a frenzy, and my facade became reality. I ordered 'Lodam's execution. It wasn't until much later before reality returned to me, but by then, it was too late.

It did not go against my favor. 'Lodam survived, and two of Literus' warriors were taken from my attention. I may had gone against my intentions, but it only served for my benefit... as would happen in the near future.

My plan furthered on not long later, after 'Lodam and his "heretic chapter" were forced into a retreat. I fabricated a story of the 'heretics" being under the influence of a rogue Oracle, and convinced 'Sarasee to allow the Jiralhanae to lead the assault against their occupied tower, and not the Sangheili. I couldn't allow 'Sarasee to contact the "heretics"; I was still being watched by Literus and his subordinates. I needed to act according to what was expected of me, or face assassination. I may had been surrounded by Honor Guards at all moments, but two Captain Ultras were also present, and I never doubted Jiralhanae strength against Sangheili strength.

Fate had me rewarded for reasons I couldn't understand, now or ever. A new, younger Jiralhanae developed into the plot. He was young, unaware of the truth, no agent of Casto, and in a prime position to replace Literus; even 'Sarasee favored this Careekius.

"Two with one", as the saying went. I had the power to remove Literus; at the time, I was surrounded by dozens of the best Sangheili; the Captain Ultras had no chance. Yet, I wouldn't push beyond the boundaries. I still couldn't tell 'Sarasee the truth out of risk of the Captain Ultras slaying many before they were put down. Still, I didn't waste this chance; Literus was removed from position by force, and was replaced with Careekius. Now, I had my entire Jiralhanae force under _my _own control, not that of Literus, and the Captain Ultras didn't side with Literus when I acted against him; the limits were still intact. I didn't push the Captain Ultras too far.

...Something of a major contradiction occurred. Literus, instead of waiting for Truth to reinstate his role, almost revealed the truth, only to be executed by a Kig-Yar sniper – a timely act of faith, not. This Kig-Yar was no normal mercenary. When I expressed my gratitude to it, I observed its unusual courtesy. This Kig-Yar was no stranger to politics. I had no doubt this Kig-Yar was an _actual _agent of Truth.

Were that of a concern at the time. I was perplexed to why Literus would act so against what I suspected of him. It came to me too late; Literus wasn't an agent of Truth, and he never was tasked with overseeing me. He knew the truth through other means that I would soon learn of, but he wasn't in ties with Truth, and hence, wasn't my own personal Devil. Since he was killed, there was no state of safety from Truth's reach. I was still at danger, and I was sure he would see through what happened. How much longer would I be his scapegoat? If I was not already removed from that role.

Literus was innocent, and he died. Was it right? Careekius was now at my service, and I needed to use him, soon.

There was more that convinced me that the Jiralhanae were not of threat. There was someone impersonating me. I had my own agents, and those agents told me that Literus only knew the truth through my own message to him. This was false; I sent no such message to him detailing the reality. Clearly, Truth had a hand in this. Casto was not so foolish to ask Regret and Mercy for agreement in telling Literus, so, he again used me. And who was Literus to him? Truth couldn't rely on me to dig my own grave, so he had to dig it himself. I never discovered who was sending messages with my name on the front. I only learnt what my agents told me – unfortunately, that was after Literus' death; had I known before, perhaps I could have saved him. Everything I believed was a mistake. Literus and many others died because of me.

When I witnessed Literus' actions, I had the hunch that was later confirmed. Taking a risk that shook me at the time, I didn't protest when 'Sarasee ordered the Zealot, Var 'Lultamee, to do a casualty count of the "heretics". The Jiralhanae wouldn't stop him – I hoped – and when he saw the dead members of that team that went missing a segment and a half ago, 'Sarasee would learn all.

The impersonator acted again, ordering the Jiralhanae patrolling the tower to execute 'Lultamee. I learnt this the same time my agent told me of how Literus learnt the truth. The impersonator was setting me up for downfall, and my plans were ruined. It was off how the impersonator managed to act so fast in ordering 'Lultamee's death...

All eyes turned to me when 'Lultamee's body turned up, but bones and armor. 'Sarasee accused me of orchestrating his murder. I did, in the eyes' of the Jiralhanae. Only the impersonator himself knew what other barbaric orders and tales he told others.

At the time, I knew someone was impersonating me through messages and audio transmissions, and that Literus and his warriors weren't agents of Truth. I was also aware of my growing insanity, but I couldn't act fast enough. I told 'Sarasee that 'Lultamee's place on the false Great Journey wasn't reinstated after I removed it during that facade in front of the Forerunner tower. Both parts of me hated 'Sarasee, but it was only the insane part that acted, and refused to believe 'Sarasee to be the only hope. This turn of events was in my favor; I knew that if the insane part continued, 'Sarasee may of snapped, and killed me. He had to know the truth before this, however. I was no longer fearful of death; I was insane and dangerous, I needed to die.

It was hard to tell 'Sarasee the truth when every moment I was with him, the insane part of me took control. It got so bad, I ordered Careekius to beat him to death. I needed to act, fast. All I could do right now was inform Careekius.

I told Careekius _everything_. As suspected, his calm demeanor prevented him from reacting unfavorably, and he understood my position. I informed him of my growing insanity, and warned him of potential danger. I also asked him not to outright tell 'Sarasee; I still hoped that my sanity would shine through, and that I would end up telling him, and he would kill me in rage. I also didn't want to put Careekius into more danger than needed. If he or anyone else told 'Sarasee, the agents' of Truth would surely act; I discovered who they were... Convicts had no morality... I knew first-hand how devious Sangheili convicts could be. I was more than a little shocked when my agents told me that it was the Sangheili Honor Guards that were the agents; they had no desire to follow religion. Cunning as I could admit I was, I knew that Truth promised the Honor Guards salvation from the genocide of their race in return for their loyalty.

I told Careekius this also, and devised a dangerous plan. It would have likely resolved in more innocent deaths than needed, but had many not already died because of me? If a few more died for there to be success, then I considered it morally right; if moral was a concern of mine anyway. I already did too much to sentence me to the deepest pit of the Eternal Darkness.

I needed the Honor Guards gone. So, in the final days of my life, when the Parasite began appearing, I acted out my biggest sin.

I had 'Sarasee, Careekius and the one that almost killed me by accident, Skae 'Kuzomee, summoned to my quarters. I also ordered the Jiralhanae to escort 'Kuzomee to execution, but I knew 'Sarasee would resist. I only ordered the Jiralhanae to do so in order to mask my motives from the Honor Guards.

Then came the next step. Careekius took the liberty to amass his most loyal pack members. It would be simple: several Jiralhanae Stalkers would ambush the Honor Guards while 'Sarasee was present, acting as if the ambush was for 'Sarasee in the Honor Guards' presence. Once the Honor Guards were ambushed and killed, I would expose the truth to 'Sarasee.

It went horribly wrong. Careekius misconceived those he could trust; a few of the Jiralhanae couldn't comprehend the basic orders they were given, and killed 'Kuzomee first before one near me attacked 'Sarasee, knocking him to the floor.

In an instance, chaos erupted. And at that time, my insanity took control again, and I ordered Careekius to beat 'Sarasee to death. There had to be some trigger for the madness to take control. Careekius knew that my madness wasn't to be trifled with, and did as I ordered. Thankfully, what he and I predicted at that moment of chaos played out; the weaponfire from the Stalkers was heard, and those in the vicinity of 'Sarasee's quarters – that were my own at the time – came running, seizing me and running after the raging Stalkers that had stolen 'Kuzomee's body and taken it from my quarters; I never discovered what they intended to do with it, but it was obvious, anyway.

I didn't despise Careekius for his mistaken decisions in placing his trust; he was, after all, and abnormal specimen of the Jiralhanae race. It shouldn't had been a mistake that the Jiralhanae he placed trust in didn't understand the vital tasks they had, and went on a rampage when those they hated could lose their lives at their hands.

I was seized and thrown into a cell, and I prayed to the Forerunners – whether they were Gods or not didn't matter – that 'Sarasee would live. Careekius couldn't see me, so I couldn't grant the obvious request swelling in his mind to reveal the truth to 'Sarasee as soon as he awoke.

It was coming close to my end by now, and my hopes were answered; 'Sarasee survived, and came straight to me. It would be my final chance to tell him the truth and have him bring about the end of the Covenant. If there was ever one worthy enough to save both of our races, it was him. I was afraid, however, I knew he wouldn't kill me even if I asked him after explaining my madness to him. He was one to always have hope in science for a cure to certain things. I would ask, nonetheless, and hope that he would listen.

I had to maintain my facade until the final moment, so I struck aside my pride, and acted like a fool, rushing out of the cell once the hardlight shield disappeared; I was trying my best to hold in my amusement as the Sangheili dragged me back into my cell.

Again, my insanity posed more problems than anything I had ever needed to overcome before. That Unggoy had nothing on my own mind. I was about to waste my last chance, then, unexpectedly, 'Sarasee apologized to me for a rage he shared with me but moments earlier.

He showed respect to me. Had he ever done such before? The hatred for 'Sarasee flooding my sane side ended, and I respected 'Sarasee; I saw another side of him. I thought he was just stubborn and arrogant as he acted like I was lesser than him, then, I saw that this outlook on him was caused by the arrogance that had grown natural to mind. It was another part of my insanity, and I saw it. At that moment, I could see reasonably well, and I knew I had no other chance.

I couldn't take any further risks, so I sent everyone but 'Sarasee away to speak with him in private, whisper the truth to him and explain it.

My insanity was still present, and some tendencies remained. One was my third person referral, but even that ended, and for the first time in many years, I was myself again. Not entirely myself, but enough to feel grand. Still, my insanity remained. It tried to hurt 'Sarasee; _it _still hated him, and it succeeded.

'Sarasee remained stoic while I told him, but as soon as Thel 'Lodam was mentioned, he snapped, killing me. When he charged at me, I literally squealed in realization that my madness caused my death; exactly what I wanted. 'Sarasee knew the truth, and I was no longer among the most dangerous individuals in the universe; two wins.

I hoped Careekius would explain everything to 'Sarasee. It would hurt him to know he killed me after everything, but Careekius would reassure him that it was what I wanted; I knew it. I also told Careekius that if 'Sarasee ever broke and killed me, he was to seize 'Sarasee to keep him safe from the wraith of his crew – betrayal broke minds. It was a common couple of words that had value. If they believed that 'Sarasee just broke the laws of his place in society, then they would no doubt attack him. Careekius was 'Sarasee's only hope. He just had to seize him and protect him from the betrayed Sangheili; how hard could it be?

I hoped it went according to my plan. Once Careekius threw 'Sarasee into a cell where he would be safe, he would reveal the full truth to him, making the Sangheili Fleetmaster understand me, and breaking the tension we both had towards each other.

How could anything go wrong? 'Sarasee trusted Careekius, so, he wouldn't had considered him a foe... I hoped not. It should had been clear.

My death wouldn't be in vain. I may had enabled genocide, but I died a hero.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>**

Hoped you enjoyed! I was really excited to do this chapter. I hope I didn't miss any small facts; I researched the hell out of my previous work with Pity to try and get everything nice and clean.

Initially, I did Pity as a character just to hate (Joffery Baratheon – Halo version) but thinking back on other work I've read since, I realized that having a villain that people like to an extend is much better than having one to hate. Sure, you have villains that have their own flaws and goals that make them villains, but this isn't a look into Pity's flaws; this is a revelation. I don't see Pity as a bad person, but instead someone troubled with the fate of an entire empire.

I'll try and do likable antagonists for now on; antagonists you can root for in a showdown. Do you want the hero to live? Or the antagonist? I have amazing idea for a future antagonist! Think Johan Liebert from Monster, but just his skills; this antagonist won't be some supernatural madman. Also, just because he's against the main characters, doesn't mean he's necessarily evil.

Please leave a review detailing what you think, pointing out Lore or story integrity mistakes (I hope I made all of Pity's actions compatible with what I actually put in at the time) and pointing out typos as I'm more than sure I've made a few or more.


	47. Despair: Part Two

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:****

Phew, Christmas is over and a new year as arisen. Stupid Mayans don't know anything. So, hopefully I'll get back into doing this a bit more now that I'm starting to recover time-wise.

Right, I've changed a few things from previous chapters that take place in the modern timeline to make the things I put in less bothersome on my conscious.

For one: I removed the sexual joke Dean made towards Courtney in "The Tormented Assassin". I did a follow-up of this in "The First And The Last", but I just keep finding it out of place for Dean's character, so I removed it. The follow-up conversation between Dean and Courtney never happened, and "The First And The Last" begins with Courtney pacing, waiting for SPARTAN Derek with Dean comforting her. It's pretty much a long explanation of their relationship, but I find it really develops Courtney's character, so I don't believe readers will become bored. It actually confirms that they're in sort of a relationship since the only mention of it before hand will now be when Red stares at Dean during "The Tormented Assassin", wondering what type of relationship his sister and Dean are in, and during the dinner chapter where I more or less hint at an upcoming relationship. It's also the chapter I messed up in. You know, the embarrassing chapter.

You can go back and read the changed follow-up part, if you desire. It's the beginning of "The First And The Last". I don't exactly want Dean and Courtney to enter a sexual relationship. They're close and care deeply for each other, but Courtney still has a ways to go when it comes to trusting men. I'm gonna try and not rush this, and removing that one joke from that chapter helps a lot. When I think back on it, I find a romance story to be cliché. Kinda annoyed I put it in, but I think I can turn it around, and make it less of a romantic relationship and more of a protective, close and supportive one.

In the same chapter as "The First And The Last", I also removed the mention of Lynda going apeshit when she heard that Halsey was the mother of Miranda. I'm going to instead save this till later when I have more time for her falling out. I also removed the mention of a friendly Elite ship being encountered on the planet they crashed on. I originally had different plans for the whole crashing on the planet, but my current plans exclude a friendly Elite ship being with the ONI Prowler that discovered them. Again, this can be blamed on the stupid decision of mine to do a flash-back narrative. While I can't get rid of the entire narrative, I can improve on it.

Also, I removed something Courtney said in the chapter where she went to see Eric. She mentioned that during the current assault on the _Kryptonite _(That's happening now) Dean's welfare distracted her from performing her duties. Since she hasn't exactly got any duties with the ship is offline, what she said makes no sense. I removed what she said along with the actual mention of the battle that's gonna be playing out in this chapter.

I also died down the references to 'Lodam and the Monarch's fate. It's not completely gone, but I made it more vague, and I didn't mention any betrayal, just that 'Lodam, the Diverted and the Monarch weren't with the surviving crew of the _Kryptonite_, and that Red and Courtney were pissed about something they did. I hope this'll help for future readers.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Thel ' Lodam)<strong>**

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[Unknown, 2555]****

****[TIME]********-********[Unknown]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite, **_******Junction Outside Medical Bay]****

* * *

><p>A segment and a half ago, a Forerunner Associated Intelligence broke my hearts; informed me that those I willingly shed blood for were pursuing the goals of a false ideology.<p>

I leant that the Covenant was false. A misconception of the "gifts" left behind by the Forerunners led to the belief of transcendence to paradise. The Forerunners were not Gods—they were an advanced race whom destroyed everything to stop a parasitic race known as: "the Flood".

When this truth was inflicted upon my fanatic mind, that said mind broke. Emotions beyond _my own _comprehension flooded me and changed my perspective on the galaxy, made me consider concepts that I never believed possible.

On the day that _my _world ended, I promised myself to never kneel again, never be blinded by faith and religion, to _never _believe in anything other than what was logical. Logic dictated my mentality so forth. And even though I defied logic, ultimately, convictions bought about light to my dark mind—only what made sense was my following.

Supernatural elements were excluded from my new-founded beliefs. What couldn't be explained by reason didn't exist. I was no longer convinced of this—supernatural elements had to be present in the massive galaxy.

How else would fate be targeting us? Why else would Vale Nar 'Sarasee be lying in my arms, lifeless?

My mandibles were quivering, tears sprouting from my eyes uncontrollably. I was no longer roaring in anguish, but I was still verbally expressing myself; wheezing, and sniffing; my nostrils blocked up from inflammation bought about by my emotions. Slowly, however, I managed to cease my verbal expression of emotions. But not ceasing those of physical form.

As a sign of respect, I bought my trembling right hand over Vale's face—still holding him close to me with my left—and closed his eyes. Honestly, I couldn't stand him looking at me, not blinking, as if he were angry at me. He had the right to hate me, though; I allowed him to die.

We had to continue with defending the vessel. We had to fight these blind bastards. Even so, it was difficult to bring myself to lower Vale's corpse to the ground, to leave him _here_,alone. He would never leave me, and I would _never _resist returning the gesture.

The urge to close my eyes was a pressure unlike any other. But I wouldn't. I would stare at the tormented face. Even if his eyes were at peace, his mandibles were parted to their full extent, stiff and contorted with thick, slimy purple sliver dripping and seeping from and through his teeth, purple bubbles gurgling up from his throat. His face showed the fear, pain and shock he was in when he was dying, and it tortured me. It would be easy to just shift his mandibles to be at ease, but it was a major dishonor to manipulate the body of a dead Sangheili comrade other than to close their eyes or to recover their body. Anything else was worthy of death. Punishment may not come to me even if I did it, but I still wouldn't inflict such dishonor onto Vale.

I bought Vale closer, resting my forehead onto his, feeling the warmth of his early-dead body leave him. I clenched my muscles up as I resisted roaring in pain.

This was Vale. He was one who saw clearly from the sky and never went against logic or reason. He was to be the leader of our race. Now, he was dead, in my arms. It was my fault. Mine! HE WAS DEAD BECAUSE OF ME! I BETRAYED HIS TRUST!

The gagging of my attempted maintaining of my composure and the physical contact I was exhibiting with Vale drew the attention of Qrs. The stealth operative grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up and making me drop Vale's body back down into his pool of blood that I and he were huddled in, splashing the blood everywhere.

Once I was on my feet, Qrs spun me around. I was ready to attack him once my eyes laid on him, but before I could lash out at him, his hand grabbed my throat, pushing me against the bulkhead, his four digits clenching around my throat with his other arm rested calmly by his side, his claws digging into my undersuit.

I had never seen Qrs act as he currently was—no one ever had. This was likely his emotional reaction to the death of an ally and "friend". Physical violence was no foreign outlet for emotion. So far, Qrs had not expressed his emotions verbally; didn't speak, growl, grunt or hiss. It was probable that physical expression of emotions was all Qrs knew.

Despite his helmet covering his entire head, the two red visors that covered his eyes still intimidated me. Even so, I could still somehow see his eyes beneath the visors—not in a physical way, but one mentally. He pressed my back up against the bulkhead, tightening his grip around my throat and bringing himself closer to me. I tried to lash out, but my arms wouldn't move from trying to pull his hand away from my throat. I had no control over my body's instinctual motives.

Qrs released his grip slightly; he didn't want me dead. "A single example of your weak mind when your emotions previously surged is all that I needed to judge it best to prevent a recurrence of what happened earlier. If you don't hold in your emotions, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

He released his grip further, giving me the space I needed to nod my head. I had regained control of my arms, and I could lash out at him. Idecided against it, remembering the operative he killed when we went to rescue Vale. His armor had some type of strength and reflex altering augmentations—similar to that of the Demon armor. All Covenant armor had such, but Qrs' was an example of technology developed for particular branches only. Qrs and his operatives were the Covenant version of the Demons.

Content with my answer, Qrs released me, letting me drop to the ground and begin coughing and sucking in air. My throat was afire with pain, but compared to that in my head, it was nothing. Conversely, the pain's ending was one well awaited.

Walking over to Vale's body, Qrs picked up my helmet and handed it to me after pulling me back up onto my hooves. I didn't show any gratitude, and simply took my helmet out of his hands, turning my head around immediately afterwards so I didn't risk seeing Vale's body.

I, instead, laid eyes on the two Humans. Morgan was still standing, staring directly at Adam Franti's head without even blinking. Rick Cylus was more visibly emotional. He was slumped on the floor with his back against the bulkhead, head in hands as he silently wept. I didn't judge him weak. I was foolish to ever judge Humans weak over their reaction to their comrade's death. Were I not so different?

My two broken hearts dropped when I heard the familiar buzzing the Sentinels made. Turning to the sound—trying my best not to notice Vale's corpse—it took all my effort not to roar in rage when ten Sentinels hovered into the junction from the corridor adjacent to the corridor we were in cover by. Fate had delivered its ultimate blow, but it wasn't satisfied.

The Sentinels buzzed into the junction, hovering through it and into the corridor leading to the medical bay, the beams of the T'vaoan's particle beam rifles only deflecting off the Sentinels' shields with no damage. Not wasting the chance, Qrs rushed into the fray, leaning at the edge of the border archway of the corridor the Sentinels just went down, leaning out of cover and proving support for the Sentinels.

Not long after, Qrs moved out of cover and rushed down to join the Sentinels, Nrex backing him up. Krnat took position where Qrs just was, continuing to provide support. The sounds of the Sentinels' beams and the carbine and needlers firing and the screeches and desperate fire from the T'vaoan flooded my ears, making me shake my head in anger.

Once the weapon fire ceased, Krnat left the cover by the pillar that bordered the connecting frames where the corridor down to the medical bay connected up to the junction, and went over to the head of Franti, carefully picking it up and hurrying to join Nrex and Qrs.

Morgan came up to my side. I, at first, thought he was going to try and go after Krnat, but he instead let out a bitter grunt. "Bullshit!" He hissed. "Where the hell were they _five _minutes ago?!"

I was going to condone his emotions towards Vale's death, but what words formed in my throat didn't arise. My mandibles moved to form the words, but without the assistance of my actual voice, it was just a movement. Eventually, I managed to stutter, "So-so-somthing's... some-something's not-not r-r... righ-right."

Morgan turned to face me, wearing a worried look. "This will be a problem," He said.

Confused and worried at the same time—a terrible mix—I turned around fully to face him, taking a step forward. "H-How... how... how..." I growled, irritated at my inability to say two simple words.

" 'How so'?" Morgan asked, getting the correct words.

I nodded, making Morgan let out a sigh. Before he could say anything further, I snapped around to the sound of hooves clattering on metal, spotting Krnat reappear around the corner, the red blood of Franti's head covering his hands with an odd amulet in his hand and four Sentinels floating above him. " 'Lodam, you're to come," He cocked his head to the left to face the Humans. "But you two are to remain here. I have yet to conceal your comrade's body," Morgan was about to protest when Krnat held his hand up to halt him. "I haven't moved his body from where I found it. I only mean to cover it with one of your white cloth coverings. Is that okay by you?"

Slowly and gently, Morgan nodded his head, grabbing the odd looking amulet out of the air when Krnat tossed it to him. I supposed it was the "dogtags". I could feel the sensations of the Human's body shaking as I walked by him to join Krnat, following him back around the corner he just came from and down towards the medical bay with the four Sentinels that came with him remaining back to guard the Humans.

I saw both the bodies of the Unggoy that Qrs and his two operatives killed earlier when dealing with the Ibie'shans, and the bodies of the T'vaoan. Each were in a pool of their respective blood with either entry holes of carbine rounds, energy sword cuts and stab wounds, or missing chunks of flesh from needler rounds exploding covering each body. Qrs and Nrex were standing outside the medical bay, communing. Whatever they were talking about held no interest to Krnat who instantly rushed off into the medical bay.

" 'Lodam," I heard Nrex call my name, making me turn around just as I was about to follow Krnat into the medical bay. Nrex was looking at me with Qrs to his side, looking at Nrex in turn, arms crossed. Something was off. "Come here."

Intrigued, I obeyed, approaching the duo. I noticed how Qrs was dead still. I also took a keen notice in the dead T'vaoan body they were standing over. "Y-y-y-yes?" I asked. Nrex tilted his head at my stutter. I hoped he didn't get the impression that I was fearful.

Nrex crossed his arms. He seemed to be mimicking Qrs' posture, but that was just in my mind. Realistically, I didn't believe he would act in such a disrespectful way. "Is it right to prevent the stimulation of revenge?"

Confused, I tilted my head, gesturing for him to explain.

Nrex seemed to be without patience. My request for him to explain was met with a harsh growl. But, he explained, nonetheless. "I only expressed my desire to have tried to keep a T'vaoan alive to torment," Nrex gestured to Qrs. "But he rebuked my words! I only made a remark-"

"Words often lead to actions," Qrs broke him off, his cold its usual dead, cold tone. Why anyone tried to argue with one harboring such a voice was beyond me. I knew operatives such as Nrex had a brave nerve, but questioning Qrs stepped over many lines.

"And how would I act?" Nrex hissed. "They are _all dead_! It's a shame," He turned to look at me. "They deserved to be tormented! They killed Vale-"

I hissed at him, halting him, trying to hold in the tears that were swelling. Qrs was _right _there, and if he spotted a single tear, it would be the end of me. "Do-do not remind-remind... meh... _me_!"

"You speak in such a matter with fear in your heart?" Nrex chuckled. "Are you a craven without Vale?"

I hissed again, a growl accompanying it. "This... th-this is be-be-because o-o-of hi-h... he."

Nrex nodded. His aggression calmed down, and he seemed to acknowledge my pain. He was venting his emotions, that was all. Every living being had different ways of doing so. "His death affected you. It affected me. It affected _all_ of us," He turned around to face Qrs, hissing lightly. "It affected you, brother... Yet, you're allowed to act out on your emotions. We are not?" He pointed at me, flicking his longest finger at me. "You attacked 'Lodam!"

"I came across in a way that his acknowledgement would not be missed," Qrs explained, his voice calm as always, but cold and dark. "There were emotions mixed in it, but I didn't 'attack' 'Lodam."

Nrex shook his head. He clearly didn't understand that the worst this got, the worst its outcome would be for him. Nrex was relatively new to Qrs' team, so his loyalties were up to being questioned. He also didn't assist in apprehending the operative that tried to kill Qrs and the Demon, preferring to stand there at the time, not willing to believe the truth of the Great Journey. Since then, he has been constantly expressing his distaste for Humanity in a way of complaint.

"Do not deceive yourself," Nrex was treading on dangerous ground with his words. "If a leader cannot admit he is wrong, then he isn't a good lead-"

He had no time to finish. As fast as the storm light, Qrs grabbed Nrex by the throat. It didn't take any effort for him to tighten his grip until Nrex's throat crushed in on itself. Blood and bone brittle splashed all over Qrs who let Nrex's body drop to the ground before turning to me. "A mandatory virtue that was vital for my role in the Covenant was the ability to root out betrayal. I failed with Brekka. But past experiences only enhance one's skills."

I nodded. There was nothing more I could say. Although, my concerns to his armor was proven correct. His armor _had _to have been modified. There wasn't any possible way he could have crushed Nrex and Brekka's throat otherwise.

I remained quiet whilst following Qrs into the medical bay. The Phantom was gone, of course. But, it raised a question. Why leave? Even if it was out of warriors to deploy through the breach in the medical bay, another Phantom could've taken its place, as was a common boarding tactic.

I also noticed Franti's body. It was covered in what Humans called a "sheet". It was lying on its stomach on the ground, a huge puddle of red blood surrounding it. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the body's arms and legs were missing. The Ibie'shans must've went further than what we saw at the junction. The limbs were recovered by Krnat, and were placed next to Franti's main body, covered in a second sheet. I admired Krnat's decency.

"Nrex?" Krnat asked, seating himself on the slab I was put on to receive my nano antibiotic shot earlier... when Vale was alive.

"Dead," Qrs answered. He had no remorse for what he did. I, personally, found his execution of Nrex out of place, but I saw his approach. As unethical it may have been, it was warranted.

"New-comers," Krnat muttered, watching a Sentinel fly past his head and fall into a patrol with two others who were scanning the room for something. "I guess the worst already came with Brekka. Betrayal can now come from all angles."

I took notice to the lack of Human bodies in the room. Those wounded during the mutiny may had recovered, but surely there would be doctors dead from when the breach? It was probable that they all survived and escaped, but how fortunate would that be?

"Wh-wh-ere th-th... tis room's Hums?" I spoke my mind, my words not forming properly.

"Probably moved after the crash happened," Krnat replied, hopping off of the slab. "But... the other two may be able to find out. They're connected up to the Human battlenet, after all."

"Bring them," Qrs ordered Krnat with a gesture towards the room's door. "But keep them from entering this room. More tampering with their minds will only worsen their overall effectiveness and utilization."

Krnat nodded, following out his orders and hurrying from the medical bay, two Sentinels following him to guard him from any ambushes.

Leaning against a wall, I took one last glance as Franti's body. Why was there such a lack of discipline? The Ruuhtian or T'vaoan with the Ibie'shans would've surely prevented such a barbaric act of moral attack. Or, did they permit this? Nothing made sense; I remembered the dead Unggoy in the corridor. They barely wore anything. What cloths and robes they did wear held a varied amount of reminiscence to those farming Unggoy wore.

Qrs noticed my head's direction, and his non-literal mind-reading abilities came into play. "Do I stand alone in my assumption that our foe are neither Covenant, nor heretics? What say you in this particular matter?"

I had to reply with simple words. Even simple words would be hard, but not to the extent of my normal vocabulary. I hoped my "loss of speech" was only temporarily. "Yo... you-your ass-assume i-i-i-is co... co-co... righ... ri... right."

Qrs nodded, turning his gaze to the ceiling of the room. "I do not believe our perplexity is universal."

"A monument to intellect, as the saying goes," A distant voice said. Snapping my head towards the sound, I noticed Qrs' lack of his own reaction to the voice. It wasn't Krnat, nor the Humans who spoke. And the voice... it sounded eerie and distant, but yet, so close.

Forming in thin air, something no physical being could do, a Sangheili clad in standard Minor armor appeared before me.

Stunned into a state of shock, I stared at what had just transpired, the corners of my eyes noticing that Qrs' attention was elsewhere; he didn't see what I did.

Clenching its mandibles into a smile, the figure spoke, "You were right in your retracting of the sense that only logic dictates the galaxy's progression." My mandibles parted in shock; the voice of this figure had somehow passed Qrs' own in unnatural aura.

The figure took a few steps towards me, stopping right in front of me. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Courtney Jsarez)<strong>**

****Installation 06 Timeline****

****[DATE]********-********[Unknown, 2555]****

****[TIME]********-********[Unknown]****

****[LOCATION]********-********[Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC ******_**Kryptonite's **_******Bridge]****

* * *

><p>He died thinking I hated him.<p>

Anger and frustration was a calling card to the worst of a Human. I just learnt that eight years of the galaxy's life had been wasted because of a mistake at the hands of the single most intelligent AI in the known universe. Lashing out was to be expected, and I would've apologized to Timmy once I calmed myself down. But, he died before I could apologize.

Did he understand my anger at him? He sure didn't seem to despise me; he said goodbye moments before... Howbeit, there was still the chance of him dying with the belief that I hated him in his programmed mind.

Dorhan's failsafe virus had no limits. He needed to ensure our safe capture at the hands of ONI, and in doing so, didn't consider the speck of a possibility that his plan would backfire. Even so, he knew his virus would kill Timmy. In his eyes, the AI was expendable.

But Timmy was so much more than just an AI. The late Huragok's reprogramming of him changed him and made him a common creation of Humanity. Humans had somehow mastered the abilities to create an intelligence so similar to Humans, that actual Human's own personal emotions could be influenced by the intelligence.

Timmy was dead. He wasn't deactivated as Dorhan should've done; he didn't want to take any chances, and he knew there was a mild chance of the Huragok rewriting the AI's code. For that, Timmy's entire core was wiped out. Obliterated. He was dead as dead could be. Fleighted Fire couldn't recover him like it was trying to do with the ship, and there was no recovery system in Humanity's entire mass of technological utilities that could bring the AI back.

I sighed in frustration, leaning back in my comfortable command chair, eyes still on Timmy's holotank that was so close to my chair's right armrest that it could've been connected up to my chair itself. That was probably the plans of the ONI designers when they took this ship and basically added every spook cliché in the book to it.

Despite the circumstances, the bridge was quiet. Two female Officers were huddled up in a corner, the younger of the two sobbing into her friend's chest. I didn't blame them; as far as they knew, their families were dead.

Others were all evidently upset. Hardinworth was leaning back in his seat, his head hanging back over the seat's headrest. His eyes were clenched shut with him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Another Officer was leaning next to his station's chair, knees bought up to chest and head resting in his arms. He wasn't crying, but knowing him, he was just thinking about the outcome of what was happening.

One Officer had actually fainted from the stress of believing his family was dead. He was currently lying on the floor, his head in the lap of Gantant who also sat on the floor, flanked by one of the Helmsmen, Pepper Garcia.

When you're surrounded by so much sadness and despair, emotions begin to surge throughout you. Right now, the crew needed someone to look up to. Now more than ever, they needed me to remain strong to coordinate the means to our survival. So, against every desire of mine, I held in the urge to begin crying. My family was likely dead, also. The Gravemind hadn't told me or Red much, but the AI of the ONI Prowler that was tracking the Supercarrier had told me a thing or two.

Reach had been attacked and glassed. Not long after, Earth was discovered and almost destroyed before the Covenant pissed off to the Ark that I heard the Monarch and Fleighted Fire mention more than a few times. It was meant to be the superstructure that created the Halos. From what ONI knew, the Ark was mostly destroyed. This would've probably annoyed Fleighted Fire when I told him, but apparently the Ark was destroyed by the activation of Installation 04B, a replacement Halo Red's buddy, the Master Chief, destroyed a few months earlier. Installation 06B was out there, and for all I knew, ONI could've already discovered it. They wouldn't have gotten far without Fleighted Fire's assistance, however, and that concept cheered me up to some extent.

"Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire hailed me over out private COMM channel. "I have means to speak with you relating to your vessel's core systems. Have you a moment?"

I keyed my earpiece, turning the sound that was coming through up so I could hear the Monitor better. "Shoot. What've you got?"

"Very negative news, I'm afraid. Your vessel's central power core is refusing to commune with me. Upon a further reading of the central processing conduit, I've discovered that the entire system designed for commanding the core has been wiped by the ancilla's failsafe protocol."

I was expecting Fleighted Fire's explanation to be more... complicated. But I remembered it mentioning earlier that it was using more 'simpler' terms to avoid confusing us, and sound more Human over a 'robot'. Before telling me, I thought pretty low of him and the Forerunners as a whole; one of the most intelligence AIs created couldn't figure out Human terms through research of our vocabulary? I was probably being a bit judgemental, but having not once asked what a term the Monitor used meant, I felt like the AI wasn't _really _an advanced alien creation.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead and wiping sweat away. Usually when I was stressed, my fingers would twitch uncontrollably. It seemed like my body reverted to the natural way of dealing with stress. There was another reason, and that was the lack of air-conditioning; it was hot in the bridge.

"What about the emergency power core?" I asked. "There's always one to allow the ship's AI to initial of the final act of the Cole Protocol. While blowing up the ship's not an option, the power core may help with getting some defences online."

"Your vessel's emergency power core is suffering from the same impediments that the main core is," Fleighted Fire explained.

"That's not right," I noticed, fixing my eyes to the floor as I began thinking over the Fire's words. "The proper procedure forbids the ship AI from interacting with the core unless the Captain tells it so, or if the Cole Protocol comes into effect..." I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. "I guess some ONI protocols overwrote it," I concluded, "and Timmy decided that Dorhan was his boss. Goddamn it, Dorhan."

"I am sorry I couldn't be of a better quality of assistance, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire apologized.

"It's not your fault. It may seem like I blame you for the mishaps of others, but I'm sorry; the Monarch's rampancy isn't your fault, it's mine. He said he was entering that period but denied any danger of it. The correct decision would've been to call bullshit and keep an eye on him."

"Synthetic maintenance is not the Reclaimers' responsibility until they ascend the mantle. You did nothing wrong," Fleighted Fire reassured me. "More precisely, it is my fault. Like you, I didn't anticipate the Monarch's malfunction to be of concern. You have every right to be angry at me."

I closed my eyes, resting them from the light that was shining into the bridge. "I've been treating you both like crap over shit you can't help. I forget you're only synthetics, and there's limits to what you can do. I guess I just expect from you what I'd expect from Humans," I scoffed, disbelieving my stupidity. "I've been such an ass."

"It is a natural organic function to desire more out of someone," Fleighted Fire said. "Admittedly, I expected more out of you, myself. As I have been an unfortunate inconvenience to you, you have been the same for me. Your conflict with the meddlers has tampered with so many of my protocols, and I began to become frustrated."

I frowned, deep in thought. The Monitor's words troubled me... the emotions that he mentioned he had were alarming. "Hey, you're not becoming rampant either?" I asked, hoping that I didn't hurt his feelings—if he actually did have some.

"No, Reclaimer. I understand your worry, but I shall cease such stress. The longevity of my class of mobile synthetic form has never been fully calculated by my creators. What was made as fact was amplification of our rampancy. The Monarch is the most advanced ancilla created by the Forerunners, and hence, has certain, basic organic needs. One need was the requirement for a mild degree of socilization. The Monarch suffered due to isolation. I believe a Monitor was meant to care-take the Monarch's facility and resolve this predicament, but none was ever stationed there; time was of the essence for my creators, but they made a serious mistake that they overlooked. As such, the Monarch's central cerebral core deteriorated. I, myself, thrived in solitary. And even if I didn't, I had the Hybrids to interact with, filling that void. I pity the Monarch."

I lowered my gaze further to the floor of the bridge, the metal pattern of the floor playing a game with my eyes. "So do I. If you see him, tell him I'm sorry, and say that I need to talk to him. By the way, do you have any idea on where he is?"

"No, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied. "I have made the effort in hacking the assaulting meddlers' communications network, but no mention of the Monarch has been supplemented to my seeking. I did encounter something else that I mean to speak to you about. The meddlers are somehow aware of my presence, and-"

"Won't destroy the ship as a whole," I concluded, shaking my head. "That explains why the Carrier hasn't just bombarded us... but how do they know about you?"

"I have scanned their ship and discovered a creator's device that allows them to scan designated targets for Forerunner relics. A Luminary. Some instinct of theirs must of told them to scan this vessel, and they discovered my presence. As has been established, these meddlers find me of a particular importance to their religion."

"They destroy us," I mused, "and they destroy you, losing an asset. Whist if they invade us, they'll be too preoccupied when the _Infinity _arrives to kick ass," I shook my head, amused. The war had apparently ended years ago, yet the Covenant—or leftovers of them—were still getting their asses kicked by Humanity over religion. Humanity learnt years ago to not let religion dictate politics; why couldn't an technologically and physically advanced race do the same?

"A correct analogy, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire said. "Also amusing, if I do say so myself. I'm grateful my creators gave me the correct emotional atmospheric sensors along with the capabilities to express amusement. I'm not so much grateful with other such emotions—such as anger, hatred, resentment, annoyance, frustration-"

"Frustration and annoyance are kinda the same thing," I decided to be a smartass. There wasn't much else to do other than be a smartass. And after everything that had happened, I needed a good laugh.

"Forgive me. A misinterpretation of your vast vocabulary is at fault," Fleighted Fire apologized. I wondered if he meant it, or was just playing along. Immediately, I was propelled to stop being friendly with the AI. The engagement I was having with Fleighted Fire was one every Captain should've had with their ship's AI. I never had such a connection with Timmy, and having a likewise relationship with any other AI felt inappropriate, and just plain wrong. In spite of these reasons, I still felt bitter towards Fleighted Fire over a few hindrances, but I kept convincing myself that I was overreaching my expectations. My mind must had just grown accustom to my expectations being met after Red showed up. Stupid fucking mind.

"You also missed that I was messing with you," I told the Monitor, addressing his earlier apology over using two words with similar meanings if not the same; I wasn't going to look up if they _did _have the same meaning, so I hoped my joke didn't backfire. I scolded myself for joking again.

"Oh, I _am_ well aware of your jest, Reclaimer," Fleighted Fire replied. "My verbal and physical emotional emittance sensors has formerly gathered a sourced amount of data revolving around your species' mental development over that of your ancient predecessors. I deferred that indulging in your jests to be a vital execution to appease your psychological character. Did I misjudge?"

I began rubbing my chin whilst thinking on Fleighted's words, the rhythmic massaging of my chin brining an instinctual smile to my face. "No, it's fine. Maybe use some sarcasm. Just, only around me; the rest of the crew mightn't be so approving."

"As per your command, Reclaimer-"

"Courtney?" I frowned, confused at the voice. It was Red's, but why was he calling me Courtney again? Earlier I assumed it to be one of his alters. But the way he said it just then... it seemed like him—yet, it seemed alien at the same time.

"Yeah?" I said, trying to keep the worry out of my tone, succeeding to some extent, but still sounding as if something was bothering me.

"We've got a problem."

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>**

* * *

><p>"We've got a problem," I told Courtney, turning around to the group of Marines that had formed around the two captured "Covenant" soldiers.<p>

The Phantoms had bugged out for some reason—likely realizing that they needed something bigger to get past us. Additionally, the Marines managed to incapacitate an Iguana and Grunt, and decided to interrogate them while the Covenant were regrouping. No Marine had been killed yet, so the Marines weren't angry enough to have the thought of finding out who they were fighting removed from their mind. They were now offering medical aid to the Iguana and Grunt if they gave them Intel on who they were—the two weren't badly wounded with just a few bullet scrapes and cuts, but it was enough to cause any living creature with nerves a deal of pain.

The Marines' curiosity had gotten the better of them, but I admired their direction: Learn as much as you can about your unknown enemy—a vital tool in successfully defeating a foe.

"More problems?" Courtney asked, a grunt of irritation coming directly after her words. "Enlighten me? God, I hate this."

Avoiding a witty comeback, I struck straight to the point. "The Covenant at my bay has bugged out, but the Marines managed to capture two Covenant soldiers and are presently interrogating them, offering them medical attention in return for tactical data. They're both a Jackal and Grunt respectively, so loyalties in the face of death mightn't strike them as much of a concern as I would like. What do I do?"

"Intervening will only raise more questions," She sighed as she continued, "Jesus. Just let it play out for now. But... if worse comes to worse, just tell 'em. But don't make them fight if they find out; you can't rely on them at that point."

I nodded to myself. "Understood," I said, disconnecting from the channel and turning fully around to face the group of Marines, gripping my BR tighter in hand. I noticed that two Marines had been watching me, wondering why I wasn't with them.

"Status?" I asked as I walked over, eyeing the Grunt who seemed to be shitting itself at the sight of me. _(It is not unaware of the continuous existence of your branch, but it has the knowledge in what breed of that branch you hail from.) _The Gravemind must had been meaning the SPARTAN-IVs that it told me about, just to piss me off. Adding insult to injury, it decided to show me something that hurt me even more.

"Tell 'em to make it count," I repeated silently to myself, waiting for either Sergeant Joela Ferrara or Staff Sergeant Orson Sacher to reply.

"They can understand us, that's been determined," Sacher reported. "It was quite easy to discover this. We just had to threaten the Grunt, and it couldn't help but scream with fear; little shit's got a bad poker face."

"Jackal's quiet, though," Ferrara added. "But I think he'll open up after some knife-"

" _'He'_?" The Iguana hissed, a Marine moving in with his raised assault rifle in case it tried something. "I am a female, fool!"

Two Marines looked at each other, grinning.

"It's a chick?" One Marine asked, scoffing in disbelief. "That's a first."

The Iguana snapped _her _head around to the Marine that just spoke. "I'm obviously fully grown, fool!"

The Marine being addressed looked to Sacher who shook his head while at the same time, muffling a laugh.

The Iguana snapped her head around to face me. She didn't look that much different from male Ibie'shans. It was a reptile/bird-like creature, so its gender features weren't as distinguishable as was with mammals.

"_You_," She hissed, "are you not a _true _Demon? Not one of the fancy ones? Your armor matches it. I thought you were all dead."

I stared directly at her, rolling my eyes at the thought that I would've ever had to state the obvious to a Kig-Yar sub-species. "We never die."

" 'Fancy ones'?" Sacher asked. It wouldn't be long until they found out, but I decided to play this out for as long as I could to see if perhaps Karma would to a one-eighty on her being-an-asshole scale.

"Yes," The Iguana confirmed with a nod. "The shiny ones. 'Humanity's pride', as 'Vegas puts it. Suitable enough. But, why would you question who they are?" The Iguana cocked an eye. "They are known by both Humans and all races of the ex-Coveanant."

" 'Ex-Covenant'?" Sacher questioned.

The Iguana turned her head around to face Sacher. "Yes. The actual one; not all the fake ones so named by Sangheili Kaidons that wish to reform it. While our faction is being led by a Sangheili, he wouldn't dare associate himself with the false Covenant in any way."

"What're you on about?" Sacher asked. "You guys rebels or something?"

The Iguana began tilting her head, baffled, but understanding. She eyed our armor and weapons, noticing their designs. _(This specimen represents the intellectually superior of her race. Admirable, but pathetic. Such as they were creatures once before, and such as they will be food—as all.)_

"Who are you?" The Iguana asked. "You have a Oracle, but everything seems disconnected from reason. Your armor and equipment matches that of Human warriors from the middle of the war, and the existence of the Oracle on this vessel is odd as your kind strives to protect anything of Forerunner heritage."

"What do you mean?!" Sacher snapped, squirming his shoulders as stress rose through him. He was already fearing the worse, yet there was no mistaking the obvious doubt he had.

"Quit beating 'round the bushes!" Another Marine added.

"How could you not understand?!" The Iguana hissed, just as confused as the Marines. "Have you been living under a rock for the past ten or so cycles? Why do you have such an absent of knowledge on present-rotation occurrences? You _are _aware that the great war is over, right?"

That was when I decided to step in. It was unfair enough that we had to keep this from the crew, so letting it be explained by the foe was the last viable option. "Enough," I waved for the Iguana to stop, turning to address Sacher and Ferrera who both wore the most perplexed faces I had ever seen. "There's been a problematic situation."

"Wah?" Sacher mumbled, completely speechless that I was now _supporting _the Iguana.

I sighed as I continued. "The Monarch's malfunctioning. The first act was to increase the time we exit Slipspace from sixteen hours to eight years—I'm not joking, so don't ask. Eight days may have passed for us, but eight years have passed for the rest of the universe."

The face of absolute devastation that appeared on Sacher's face would scar me forever. He believed me—there was not reason for him not to—and he broke at that moment. He dropped his assault rifle before rubbing his forehead, looking like he was about to faint.

The other Marines began expressing disbelief—either swearing and growling in frustration or outright calling me a liar and cursing at me for making such a messed-up joke at such a time. The evidence was all there, so each Marine knew the truth whether they denied it or not.

"I can't believe this," Ferrara muttered, her eyes widened in shock. "What the absolute fuck?!"

"Oh God," A Marine began panicking, "this can't be happening, this _can't _be happening... FUCK!"

A Marine came tumbling over to me, trying to maintain balance, but the emotional damage of the news he just heard taking its toll. "REACH?!" He demanded. "WHAT HAPPENED TO REACH?!"

_(Burnt to a crisp.) _The Gravemind wanted me to tell him, but I still had control over what came out of my mouth. So I instead pushed the Marine off, turning around just as Sacher grabbed onto my shoulders, anger in his eyes.

"You knew!" He hissed. "The Captain knew! We trusted you—her. Yet you didn't tell us?! What the fuck?!"

I pushed him off of me, grateful that 098 wasn't in control. Even so, I felt the natural urge to strike at him. "We were going to inform you _after _the Covenant assault ended. Most of your families are dead, but some might've survived. But you wouldn't have seen them again if you were fighting with your moral diminished."

"THAT'S NO EXCUSE!" Sacher hissed, a few Marines agreeing with sharp slang being thrown at me while other Marines backed away, not prepared to have to choose between their comrades or a massive, battle-armed SPARTAN if shit broke out. "WE TRUSTED YOU! WE HAD THE RIGHT TO KNOW!"

The yelling caught Larson's attention, and he came running over, Yoplap in tow. The Grunt looked at Yoplap, disbelief in its face while the Iguana simultaneously looked at Larson, shock making it scrunch up its reptile like eyes.

"Yes, you do," I turned back to face Sacher, ready to eliminate him if he got any more physically aggressive. "But a Captain of a ship has every right to keep information from their crew if it's for their better. You're acting selfish; this isn't about _you _and what concerns _you_; this is about the survival of the entire crew, and I won't jeopardize that over what's 'fair'."

Sacher shook his head, all respect for me lost. As if I cared what he thought of me at the moment; I may have inspired hope for them, but these Marines were already out of the battle, so moral enhancement didn't matter.

"After everything with ONI abducting you, you go down the same path," Sacher shook his head, again. "You've turned into your worst enemy, Sierra."

I took a step forward. My intimidation tactic worked, and Sacher took a step back, looking me other for any signs that I was about to lash out. "That's a comparison that I don't want to _ever _hear again. Clear?"

Sacher all but nodded, taking another step away while concurrently eyeing his assault rifle, wanting to pick it up to be ready for when the Covenant returned, but fearing what would happen if he made an unexpected move for it.

"This battle is over for you," I addressed the Marines. "I can't have any of you on the field with such a low psyche level. I'm giving you the order to retreat into the safety of the ship. You are _not _to breath a word about what had transpired here," I turned to Larson, "Larson will be with you, and will ensure my order's pin-point follow-through," Larson gave me a nod as I turned to the two captured Covenant soldiers. "You'll take these two with you, and pry as much Intel out of them as you can whilst feeding it on to Colonel Keyes. Understood?"

Instead of the usual choruses of "yes, sirs", the Marines all nodded, keeping their heads lowered. They were deep in thought about the fate of their families.

Finally picking up his assault rifle, Sacher waved for his fireteam to regroup, Ferrara doing the same. Each Marine moved to their respective fireteams, most having their shoulders slumpeds while others hung their head. The amount of control they had to prevent breaking down was what made them Marines.

Larson approached the two POWs, dragging them to their feet. He pushed the Grunt forward to be guarded by Yoplap before pulling out his combat knife, staring at the Iguana. "Attack anyone with those teeth and claws of yours, and I'll cut every one out. Do you understand?"

The Iguana nodded, eyeing Larson over. I understood the Grunt's confusion at the sight of Yoplap assisting us, but I didn't understand the Iguana's confusion with Larson. "You look just like a Human I once killed," She finally remarked. "No, not alike. Exactly. You're him; and I would remember after the fight he gave me."

"One of the clones?" I asked Larson.

Larson turned his head to me. His face didn't say it, but he was curious as to why the Gravemind told me that he wasn't the only clone in action. That was all the Gravemind told me, and I wasn't going to purse the issue. The Gravemind took back the sadistic desire to break Larson emotionally, finding the pain inflicted by anguish to be becoming old. Then again, that was when the Gravemind's mind was becoming more stable. It soon became aggressive again, but made no mention to wanting to go back to its plan with Larson.

"Most likely," Larson turned his head back around to face the Iguana. "How long ago was this?"

"Around a cycle. It was when I was still in charge of my own ship. Your replica tried to assassinate me, but failed. It was weak; an open fight wasn't planned."

"Eight years," Larson mused. "They'll be approaching their death, now. ONI's sending them on suicide missions to max up their use."

From what I knew, Larson and his fellow clones all had Werner syndrome. From what the Gravemind told me, the disease was a genetic mutation created as a result of his DNA being replicated from a sourced individual. The Gravemind also told me that certain treatments for the disease had been manufactured, but I didn't know too much. What mattered was that Larson and his clones had Werner syndrome, and they were suffering from effects that could've easily been dealt with by ONI's advanced medical technology.

"How do you feel about that?" I asked Larson, wishing I hadn't.

He didn't shrug—he never did—nor expressed any emotion in any way. Why would he? He was bought up by ONI, so his life was expendable in his eyes. It was cruel.

"I'm pissed," Larson said, to my surprise. "We were created after the SPARTAN-II Program was put into effect, so our very existence was in competition with you," He turned to face me, sadness in his old, worn eyes. He was only thirty-one, but having aged at a double rate, his was biologically sixty-two. It wouldn't be long before the later symptoms of his condition began. He would die in less than ten years from now.

Larson swallowed a lump in his throat as he continued. "As kids, we were bought up on the premise that we were Humanity's best chance for defeating the Insurrection... then when we got older, we were told that we were just competition against the you and your SPARTAN comrades. I began doubting my existence then and there, but I never stopped following through with orders. The entire reason we weren't treated for Werner was varied, but it came down to one substantial fact: ONI didn't want us defecting at one point. Our indoctrination wasn't as strict as yours; we eventually came to realize that Humanity didn't rely on us. What was the point of going on if it was for naught?"

I understood him completely. While it never happened with me, it was certainly something Jorge or Sheila mentioned every now and again. Sheila never liked fighting, and mentioned that she remembered having a good life with her family, but concluded that while she were doing something good for Humanity, it was all irrelevant.

I quickly concluded that I was treading into a zone of emotional turmoil for Larson, and that was the last thing I needed. I had to rely on him, which would be impossible if he was in a similar, if not exact, level of psyche the Marines were in. And for him, psyche levels were important. His physical state relied on his mental state.

"If you want, we can talk about this another time," I said. "We'll work over it easily enough; we both like the M6D, so the comparisons we have will hitch it off."

Larson nodded, gazing at the broken glass shieldings of the bay. Dorhan's failsafe protocol didn't make the doors to the bays or airlocks open. This was likely to prevent any deaths through venting. While I hated his guts for what happened and was happening, he, at least, was resorted enough to plan it through thoroughly enough. As much as I hated to admit it, he was a fine ONI agent.

"We mightn't get to talk," Larson said as I turned around to look at the broken shieldings as well. "You're standing alone here, Sierra. The Enforcers and Sentinels will only delay the inevitable. Retreat and wait for reinforcements."

I smiled beneath my helmet, touched by his concern. "Don't worry, I've got this. Remember, I've got the Gravemind to back me up, and T'Rakas will be here any moment. I'll make it."

"Constrictor, let's go!" Sacher called, the whirling of Phantoms echoing around the bay, the sound rebounding off every metal surface. Convenient timing.

Larson nodded before turning around and hurrying after Yoplap and the two POWs to the main entrance of the bay, an Enforcer keeping them covered in case they didn't make it before the Phantoms appeared. I watched as they all hurried out of the bay and into the main corridor, a Marine setting a mine at the entrance of the corridor as they left.

Taking in a deep breath, I rushed to one of the many emergency deployable covers, clambering over it before slamming in behind it, peering over the edge as two Phantoms flew into the hanger bay, hovering gracefully through the broken shield doors. Not a moment too soon. The convenience was boggling—it might've been a message that Karma _had _done a one-eighty.

Bringing my BR closer to my chest, I peered out of cover. The Phantoms had dropped off what appeared to be the elite forces of the ship. Out of each Phantom came five heavily armored Elites, ten light armored Skirmishers—each with either two point defence gauntlets or a carbine or needler rifle in arm—and two Hunters. The absolute dedication they were putting into killing me was not unusual and foreign... too bad I had never indulged the Covenant. I never planned on doing so.

Almost instantaneously, the Enforcers began bombarding the Covenant with a barrage of their heavy rounds whilst the Sentinels picked off any stragglers who had their shields damaged by the explosive rounds from the Enforcer. Not wanting to betray the SPARTAN code of never missing out on a fight—not an actual code—I rose out of cover, taking aim at an Elite with flickering shields and firing off two three-round bursts, the first blowing apart its shields with the second blowing apart its head, sending it flying to the ground with blood spraying everywhere.

They now saw me. Hissing, an Elite wearing Ultra armor that was common during the beginning of the war signalled for its Lance to take cover whilst waving for two Skirmishers wielding needler rifles to flank me—I knew the hand motion enough to tell what he was signalling.

Falling back into cover, I spotted one of the flanking Skirmisher land in front of me, behind the cover I was in. It quickly tossed a plasma grenade at me before leaping away. I was, however, faster, and leapt from cover, quickly skidding into the emergency cover adjacent to the cover I was just in, plasma rounds sizzling across my energy shields as I moved. I made the effort of tossing a frag out whilst moving between cover, successfully getting the grenade lodged between two Pelican pad braces that three Elites were in cover behind, killing one and damaging the shields of the other two—the Sentinels would finish them off.

Meanwhile, the Enforcers weren't faring so good. The energy shields of the Elites matched that of the standard Covenant Elite energy shield; it wasn't going down without a fight. Peering out of cover, I saw that the plasma weaponry of the Elites were doing a quick job a destabilizing the front shields of the Enforcers. The Hunters focused directly on the Enforcers while the offensive Elites kept an eye on the cover I was behind, waiting for me to leave it.

Easing fully back into cover, I quickly spun raised my weapon front-and-center just as another Skirmisher appeared. My aim couldn't match or exceed its speed, so it managed to toss another grenade before leaping away. I managed to spot a spear slicing through the Skirmisher's chest as I dodged to the side, rolling into the next cover as more plasma fire burnt the surfaces around me.

As I steadied myself behind the cover wall, T'Rakas came in beside me, carting his heavily engraved steel bow now that his spear was lodged in a dead Skirmisher. Hissing, the Hybrid pulled an arrow from his quiver, the holographic tip of the arrow sending a glimmer of light down the metal shaft of the arrow.

Static energy flickered around the tip of the arrow. Once the arrow hit an Elite, the wild energy would disrupt the shields, allowing the arrow to finish the target off without the risk of the shields deflecting it. I wanted the gun version. More importantly, I wanted that Forerunner armor back. _(The length of the effort I had to employ into my removing of the combat skin from your form gave merit to never allowing its use again.)_

We both rose out of cover in unison, T'Rakas letting his arrow loose as I began on an Elite with damaged energy shields. I took notice of the Enforcers; one's base energy shields were being hit—its frontal shield completely obliterated by plasma fire. Soon, its mains would fall, and the Hunters would have a quick time finishing it off. The other Enforcer would soon follow suite; Skirmishers were leaping onto it, planting grenades before leaping off. The Sentinels were also taking a huge blunt—only thirty-three of the original hundred were left. At least I had T'Rakas, for now.

More Phantoms were now coming in, the preliminary two having laid down a barrage on the Enforcers and Sentinels before bugging out once their turrets were taken offline, two more taking their place seconds later, dropping off another ten Elites, twenty Skirmishers, and four Hunters. Then, they left, two more taking their place. The Elites and Skirmishers we could handle—Hunters we couldn't.

Out of nowhere—like an annoying giant fly native to Arcadia—a Skirmisher leapt onto me, using its clawed—but armored—feet to support itself on the cover I was behind and crawl onto my chest, slashing its claws on my energy shield while simultaneously knocking my BR away. Another Skirmisher joined the fray, shooting at me with a carbine from my left flank. These bastards had energy shields as well, adding to the already existing difficulties with taking the T'vaoan out.

T'vaoan were less animal-like than their cousins, and hence the one crawling at me wasn't snarling or growling in my face. It hissed, but it was chirping in its native tongue as it did so. Translation software for Skirmishers had never been developed for my version of the Mark IV, so I had no idea what profanity it was throwing at me.

It only got to sprout about two curses before I dropped my BR and bought the arm that was holding it around, smashing my clenched fist across the Skirmisher's face and sending it flying several meters to my right flank, blood and skin flakes dripping and falling respectively from my fist as I turned around, grabbed my M6D from my thigh and emptied a round into the head of the flanking Skirmisher, the round penetrating its shields like it would flesh, and actually penetrating flesh less than a second later, sending its brains flying out of the exit wound on the back of its head.

T'Rakas wasn't being of any help. _(You are not the only one absent from coordination over melee. I have no doubts of your abilities, so I will not divert the host's attention from keeping further foes from assaulting you.)_

That made sense. What didn't was how the Skirmisher I just smashed in the face wasn't dead from the impact of my thick titanium fist—let alone not be unconscious. It leapt back onto me. Must of forgotten that I wasn't a model four, and I quickly reminded it after falling onto my back, crushing it and kicking back up to my feet a second later, the gravitation and magnetic systems of the armor not even requiring me to use my hands to support my acrobatic get-up. It allowed SPARTANs to minimize the amount of limbs in use at a time—if arms were in use, legs always had to be ready to leap away if an echo-tango got too close.

Back on my feet, I turned when my motion sensor warned me of another leaping Skirmisher—the Gravemind didn't, which bothered me. _(As I have previously mentioned: I knew you would utilize your combat skins motion detection system to your absolute benefit. I will not assist you unless you start to show a lack of skill, or if your very existence comes under threat. Stop whining.)_

The Skirmisher's eyes widened when I span around, snapping my grip around its throat just as it was about to land on me and clenching my grip in one successive move, crushing the Skirmisher's throat into nothing, its neck only a tube of skin with its bones and muscles crushed to dust and goo.

I subsequently dropped the Skirmisher's body, zooming my VISR into three new contacts in cover on a Pelican platform, using the braces of circling the pad as cover. Without any need to retreat to cover, I aimed, plasma sizzling my shields, but Lighter's enhancements making my shields above par of what REAP-X could develop in a decade, if not a century.

A Skirmisher peered out of cover, but the tip of the head that was visible was enough. Using my VISR's enhanced zooming system, I zeroed in on the hit-spot, stabilizing my aim until I fired, the bullet splitting the top of the Skirmisher's head apart after ripping its shields to shred. All in the matter of the two seconds.

The second Skirmisher was taken by surprise by its comrade's death, and it instinctively leapt back, its body becoming fully visible from behind cover. This just set the line for the Skirmisher's experience. Grunting in annoyance at the simplicity, I fired a round, taking the baffled Skirmisher in the chest, its shields slowing the bullets trajectory merely, but not enough to stop it from flying back from the impact.

The Elite remained. Thankfully, a Sentinel directed its attention to assist me and had managed to bring the Elite's shields down halfway before the Sentinel was taken out by supportive fire. The Sentinel's support seemed to have distracted the Elite, and its head was now visible from behind cover, it unaware of such. Another three rounds to the head took the Elite's shields down with a forth one ending its life and making a lovely display of purple misty gore.

The sight of purple, blue, green, orange, pink and—in the Brute's case—red blood made me smile. I was ending the life of those too stupid to live. They weren't oblivious to my potential, and willingly thought they could beat me. They were dead, and I enjoyed the lingering, non-verbal statement being said in my mind: Taking a life felt good. Covenant, of course. I took the life of several Marines during the mutiny, and while it felt wrong at the time, were the Covenant so different? They both equally fought for what they believed in. Their ideology. A comparison was there, and strong. I would no longer hold myself accountable for the mutineers' death; they bought it on themselves through their actions. While I would do the same in their position, and what they did wasn't necessarily wrong, I still wouldn't hate myself over making a selfless decision to take a life so I could live; I had been doing it so long with the Covenant, Humans shouldn't of been any different.

_(Behind you.)_ I spun around, slipping my arm out of the Skirmisher and letting its mangled body fall to the ground. I spotted an Elite rushing for me, sword in hand and two Hunter brothers right behind it, backing it up.

Running towards the Elite, I fired two rounds into its shields before leaping over it and the Hunters, landing behind the three. They all turned, the Hunters firing their cannons at me. I simply leapt over this as well, but this time landing on the Elite itself. Since its armor didn't have the reinforcement that most Covenant armor had to enhance the wearer's strength, the Elite was crushed under my weight, its spine breaking as I grabbed onto its neck and held onto it as I fell off its back snapping its spine like a toothpick. "Crush", was probably an incorrect word, but I wasn't a dictionary.

Now was the Hunters. Holstering my now near-empty magnum, I dived for the Elite's energy sword, moving just as another flickering green ball of light from one of the Hunters was shot at me. The round exploded behind me, sending plasma sparks, metal fragments and dust all over my back, the heat of the explosion being protected by my armors hydrostatic gel layer.

Lunging at the Hunters, I bought the already active energy blade to bear, dodging to the side of their attempts to crush me with their massive metal shields before charging their rear, the ionized plasma blade slicing through the first Hunter's armor and flesh with no problem. I kept going until the Hunter had been cut straight in half, orange blood pooling over me as the creature let out one last roar of defiance.

Its brother let out a roar of anger, charging me, lifting its shield up. Grabbing onto the shield as it came down, I climbed up its shield, pulling myself up and using the Hunter's head to support my leap over it, landing behind it.

_(Two more. Behind you.) _Turning, another Hunter pack was flanking me. Two Hunters I could handle—three sent my instincts into a rage that demanded me to retreat. Just as I was about to leap out of the ambush, T'Rakas came up behind the new pack, leaping off a pad and firing two arrows into the Hunters which pierced their armor, reminding me of when Mendez used to stab his combat knife into the shell of a turtle native to Reach in an effort to teach us about enemy protection. About thirty of the turtles died in that training segment. Sheila used to cry a lot, but Mendez, John and my own reinforcement seemed to stop that. Jorge just liked the sight of the blood; he was larger than any of the other SPARTANs, and was more brutal, as well. It was no surprised that he died doing something crazy. His death itself was a surprise, however. I thought he would of made it.

T'Rakas's arrowed went straight through the Hunters' armor and flesh. The Forerunners were experts in using holographic technology in weaponry. And the Hybrids seemed to be experts in using Forerunner tech for their own advantage. No species should have been able to do such, so quick; the Covenant had never fully developed Forerunner tech in the years the empire existed—yet, the Hybrids managed to harvest the tech in such a way that kept it mostly intact.

The arrows themselves seemed to not stop there. The energy circling the arrow sent an electronic shock through the Hunter's worms, killing them all. It wasn't possible for anything to survive the arrow. The shock looked to be of a higher voltage than a fence designed to keep Gutas out—a massive fence that could kill the creature if it just brushed it. I saw the devastation of Human contact; Looked like his was barbecued. There was nothing left of the poor handler of mine that slipped and hit the fence after bringing me close to it to threaten me after I kicked his shin in defiance earlier. Must had been Karma not liking child cruelty...

T'Rakas landed on the ground—having been in the air when he fired the arrows—and rolled over the bodies of the two Hunters, hopping back up and firing another arrow pass me, killing the other Hunter.

I definitely wanted the gun version. The Forerunner weaponry and equipment bought on-board from Halo would probably work similarly, but they didn't have electronic shock properties, most having been designed to combat the Flood while also having the ability to disintegrate unshielded targets. The Forerunners certainly did have electronic shock weaponry, but since Halo also served as a Flood research facility, having electronic shock weapons wouldn't be sufficient; raw energy having been ineffective against the flood unless it was plasma. The weapons mainly used by Forerunner "Promethean" warriors was what the Forerunners stored in the rings' armories, mainly to be used to combat any Flood outbreaks.

While the Forerunner weapons and equipment of mention were present on the ship, Dorhan had them all locked away in Hallas' relic locker before having Timmy change the codes and erase the codes from his memory, during the mutiny. No one but Dorhan knew how to access the weapons. Too bad I killed him. The locker was huge, so Dorhan was able to fit _every _piece of weaponry and equipment into there—and there was a lot; enough to arm the entire crew. Keyes suggested just blowing into the locker, but ONI surrounded the door with a layer of the strongest alloy they could've gotten their hands on. It was a smart move to keep the Covenant from retrieving the artifacts, but it was also pretty irrelevant since by the time the Covenant got to that part of the ship, the Cole Protocol would had been enacted on, and there would be _no _ship to loot from.

I sighed, turning around at the sound of a rattling _boom_, watching two Elites go flying over the walkway off the deck of the hanger bay, the mine the Marine set at the entrance of the bay having detonated. This was both good and bad. Good: The Elites were stupid enough to miss a mine. Bad: The Elites were starting to forget about me, and try to bypass my defensive. The Enforcers had both been destroyed, their wreckage a smouldering pile of rubble that littered the hanger bay. The Sentinels were also almost wiped out; only seven remained, using hit-and-run tactics to try and assist us as best they could.

Letting out a growl of annoyance, I rushed to a nearby weapon locker, grabbing a M45 shotgun and sprinting to the main entrance of the bay, plasma, needler and carbine rounds hitting my shields as I ran, but nothing bringing them below fifty percent.

Clambering over a railing, I took out a surviving Elite who was missing its arm, sending its entrails and other gory innards over the grated metal ground. The Elite gurgled some curse as it went limp on the ground.

Spinning around, I ran for an emergency cover barricade, glancing around as I moved and spotting T'Rakas clambering up to the walkway that went horizontally across the airspace of the bay, being supported by beams that held the walkway up to the ceiling of the bay. Moving quickly, the Hybrid managed to intercept any Lance that was trying to get to the ends of each side of the walkway—where the walkway connected up to a service corridor respectively that, in turn, connected the hanger bay up to the other bays' of the ship. It allowed easy access for pilots, but it currently posed a problem. I had no worries about the Covenant flanking _my _bay or gaining access through the other bays; the Marines guarding the other bays knew their territory well, and were likely using tactics similar to those Alexander used.

Pumping another round into my shotgun, I waited for the next Elite to come. _(Stealth! Flanking you from your left! Act now! It's a diversion for one that is about to reap your defence and enter the corridor you protect. Finish this one, first!)_

Raising my shotgun, I fired into the designated location, the slugs rippling the shields of a camouflaged Elite. I pumped in another round before unloading the slug into the Elite again, its shields failing as it charged at me, roaring, its camouflage now deactivated. Another pump; another shot. Blood and flesh chunks splashed across the ground between me and the operative, the smell of its blown apart flesh being filtered out—thankfully.

Spinning back around, my VISR detected the heat signatures of the Elite's footprints—or hoofprints—allowing me to enter my tracking field. Lynda and Kelly were the best trackers out of the batch, but I was also looked on favourably by John for being able to focus on a target enough to never let it go. It was both commendable, and annoying—my focus often disrupted the chain of command.

Without a cause for delay, I entered a sprint. T'Rakas would deal with the others; the operative needed to be taken out before it ambushed anyone.

I was faster than the Elite by miles. I followed its hoofprints until I turned a corridor, seeing it running up ahead. Hearing my heavy footsteps race after it, It turned around and spotted me, its alarms going off in every conceivable way, making it increase its speed.

I kept running, being prepared for the Elite to strike at me when I least suspected it; I wasn't going to rely on the Gravemind to warn me. _(Smart. Consider attracting this approach to any future endeavour of war.)_

As I got closer, I fired my M45. Most of the rounds missed, but two hit the Elite, sending ripples over its camouflaged form, static zapping around it as its camouflage began to fail which illuminated light across the dense corridor.

The Elite knew it was in trouble, and spun around to lunge at me, skidding in a zigzag movement tactic to try and put me off—there wasn't any cover for it, so it was the best it could do.

I waited for it to get mere inches from me before firing, the full weight of the M45's power blowing through the Elite's shields and camo, shredding apart its chest and sending it flying back with flesh and blood gushing everywhere.

Yet, it lived. Its hearts or lungs hadn't been hit—remarkably lucky—and it laid in a pool of its own blood, gagging as its "essence" flooded out of every natural hole in its head.

Wanting to show dominance, I slung the M45 over my back, grabbing my near-empty M6D from my thigh and aiming it at the Elite's head. The shotgun would had been messier, but I wanted the Elite to tremble as I was about to take its life—and it did. It looked at me, its eyes blood-shot—its eyes having been visible due to the helmet it wore. It tried to hiss, but the air involved only sent purple blood spraying out of his visible mouth.

It knew it was about to die, and it wasn't happy about it. It was being executed by a Demon—a plight of taboo in their culture. I was their number one enemy that they feared, hated and respected all in unison, or all at once. This one seemed to hate me. It didn't want the honor to kill me—thus why it rushed ahead—so it likely was a rookie with no SPARTAN combat experience.

"Please don't," I heard a voice. It didn't attract my attention, but it did make me cock my head. It was the Gravemind.

_(Reminiscent of events long past, is it not? This is not the first time to strived to show dominance in the face of the weak.) _

A girl laid before me, in a pool of her mother's blood, clutching her mother's body whilst crying, a bullet wound on her leg. She had to have been no more than fourteen.

Before her was me, a magnum raised at her face. Littering the pet store around us was bodies of different household animals and the family of the owner.

"Please don't," The girl sobbed as tears flooded from her eyes.

_(Alas, is this not your secret? This goes deeper than anyone is aware of.)_

Me then, smiled at the girl's begging. It was only meant to prove a point to Halsey, but I enjoyed it. I fired the pistol, sending the girl's brains splattering across the floor, a little yelp escaping her mouth as her body was slung back by the force.

The Gravemind had made its point. Reality returned to me, the Elite on the ground, bleeding out. I had the power over life an death. Such power was exhilarating. Humanity shouldn't had been able to control who lives and who dies like this—I had the power of a God!

Holstering my M6D, I instead pulled out my combat knife before kneeling down next to the Elite who was desperately trying to attack me. Its strength was leaving is, so it only squirmed when it tried to slice at me with its armored hands.

Tightening my grip on the knife, I placed it near the Elite's throat, and in one, quick, swift slice, I slit its throat, severing whatever alien arteries were in it.

Purple blood flooded from its mouth and throat, the Elite's eyes widening and retreating into the back of his head as he entered a stage of shock.

Getting back up to my feet, I ran my knife over my torso piece, the armor scraping the blood off before I sheathed the knife.

Shooting was too instant for the Elite. There was nothing like expressing power others than making you the last thing its sees before it dies. The M6D would had worked, but its death would be too quick. Here, it had time to think about the fact that I just killed it.

_(A return to roots? About time. The innocent posture of the mind was growing old. I enjoy this one so much more.)_

The Gravemind was right. I just acknowledged a startling fact that I wanted to deny more than the Flood's existence itself.

098 wasn't created to evolve me as a SPARTAN—no. He was created to save me. I evolved myself as a SPARTAN, and in doing so, my mind suffered a great deal of trauma.

It wasn't 098 that attacked that pet store.

_I _did. I did it to send Halsey a message.

That her methods had extracted its consequences.

She didn't turn me into a machine, but a monster.

I enjoyed killing those people. It seemed as if that pleasure had lasted 098's reign.

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><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>**

Thanks go to Horizon Unsheathed, Paralyzed Rat (LOL!) and Pjat096 for following (hope I didn't miss anyone) You guys are probably following from the earlier chapters on, so I doubt you'll see this for a while. But if you do, know that I'm extremely grateful for your support—for everyones' support.

Again, please leave a review pointing out any typos (Which I know I made) or cannon mistakes I may of made. Proof-reading your own work only helps to an extent. Your support and feedback is a vital tool of mine and I'm not exaggerating. I don't expect reviews from everyone—it's just a simple request that really doesn't matter. Reviews make me happy, and assist me.

Oh, for you new guys, if you want an OC, you need to leave a single review so I know you haven't done the perfectly understandable tactic where's you follow a story and come back to it later. Leave a review saying you want an OC, and I'll reply with questions of detail. You can put the detail's in the review, if you want.

Lastly, a disclaimers. The ghost at the end of Thel's segment isn't really a ghost. I wouldn't dare implement supernatural elements into the Halo Universe. Halo is Halo. It isn't a fantasy tale. I have a plan for this, so don't worry; there won't be any returns from the dead.


	48. Despair: Part Three

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I edited the name of the System that Atmosus and Quaint (The two planets in the Star System that Vale Nar 'Sarasee was attacking before stumbling across Installation 06) from Eden to Viverz. I found Eden to be a name that 343i may use in the Halo Universe in some future time, and I didn't like the notion of perhaps risking confliction with the canon. Then again, having Installation 06 here works the danger of future confliction accompanying the occurrence of 343i bringing Thel 'Lodamee back into the picture if they decide to take him beyond "The Package". But I've got a strategy for both of these adjacent with the uncertain likelihood of 343i making another SPARTAN-II with the tag: 098.

I also removed something Campbell Joyce said in chapter, "Moving On From The Past."

Joyce mentions that he witnessed almost every crew member of the_ Kryptonite_ die for Humanity. Joyce's words kind of repudiates the battle as the crew aren't_ technically_ "dying for Humanity". I also didn't have a plan on how I could conjure up a twist that critically threatens the crew of the_ Kryptonite_ when they have the upper hand, but I recently figured one up. I wouldn't need to kill off "most" of the crew, but I don't think a few hundred people could fit on an individual Prowler, so the numbers need to be reduced down. Slaughter-fest, incoming.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Campbell Joyce)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[Unknown, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[Unknown]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Crew Barracks, Aft Section Of The Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC**_** Kryptonite**_**]**

* * *

><p>"I'm not a man for succumbing to superstition," Wade Tulnai said as one of the few available doctors removed the glass shard piercing the right side of his collar bone. "But, the anguish and physical turmoil I have had to suffer through has given me a lot to reflect on. Karma, a force of habit, has been something of a popular debate on this ship."<p>

I knelt down next to the lower bunk Wade was sitting on; I was careful to ensure that I kept out-of-the-way of the doctor tending to him.

"Three families, three travesties of a settling lifestyle—something of an aspiration for me, once." Wade frowned as the doctor pulled the shard from his collar bone; a dense cloth was applied to the wound to stop the blood flow. "My sole fault is that I hit a man with my car when I was a minor. So..."—He narrowed his eyes at me—"is there some other explanation to why I'm singled-out by this fictitious element?"

I returned the stern look he was giving me. "Don't go believing in karma or anything such as that—it's not_ you_. You're like me, Wade; you look for the logical rationalizations for everything. We've both suffered profoundly because of this war, and it's not because we're being targeted—it's because it's a war of genocide. Some people will have better luck at surviving it than others. Just take it from me—someone who has access to the information that I'm about to tell you. There are people _worst_ _off_ than you out there."

"I noticed the exclusion of 'was.' I'm finding it unlikely to impossible that one would continue on with their damned life subsequent to a pain superior to my own. The only cause for my continuation of life is to exterminate every breathing entry into the Covenant that I possibly can—they deserve it."

I nodded; I understood his commitment to the one goal he had set for himself. My conflict with the Unggoy came to no avail against his with the entire Covenant Empire in itself. "You have every right to be angry. And your self-control with the Diverted is to be commended."

I jumped a little when I felt a hand place itself on my shoulder. Breathing a sigh of relief at the feel of the hand's five digits, I turned around in my crouching posture to see Hallas Day standing over me. "Hey. Got some good news," He said, smiling.

I gestured for him to continue; I felt like Hallas' words were the best I heard all day—they probably were. "Is it the medical staff?" I asked.

Hallas nodded to my inquiry. "They made it up here alright—no casualties. Some have got some scrapes and bruises from the impact, but nothing beyond normal." He looked around, searching for someone. "Could you find Freud? He trusts you, and we need to keep him distant from Tyre."

I nodded, getting up to my feet. "Thanks for mentioning this because I didn't think of it."

"You would've eventually," Hallas reassured me in a modulated tone that was like a spell on my mind.

"Yes," I agreed. "But, by then, it could be-"

"...Too late," Hallas concluded, adding, "I know, yeah."

I patted his shoulder before leaving the quarters, passing two Marines who were entering the same room to check up on Wade as I departed.

The barracks was the designated "safe zone"; it was the fall-back point ship-wide. So far, all the pilot, engineering, medical, maintenance, and off-duty Navy personnel had assembled at the barracks. Several Marine fireteams were also present—having been reassigned from assisting First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan to guarding the barracks.

It was also the least damaged part of the ship; as was standard with crashes, the rear of the vessel often suffered the lesser blunt. This factor was one of the reasons the_ Kryptonite_ had its barracks relocated to the aft section from its preliminary location. It was a tactic not widely used since the Covenant exploited the propulsive fusion drives of ships by attacking their rear; a still target was an easier target. Frigates had the speed necessary to avoid the tactic, but as a precaution, barracks were usually distant from any viable Covenant targets.

The_ Kryptonite_ wasn't designed to get into dogfights. Additionally, some talented designer worked out that the presence of Forerunner relics onboard the ship ran the risk of taking the_ Kryptonite's_ systems offline through indirect cyber intrusions and electromagnetic surge. The board listened to the designer and assessed that crashing was the_ Kryptonite's_ biggest threat. Still, the barracks was not kept within a dangerous vicinity of the fusion drives—as if it made any difference if the fusion reactors were to detonate. The aft section was doable, nonetheless.

After two minutes of combing different quarters for Albert Freud, I finally came across someone who would be of more help than the ten Marines I asked in the span of the two minutes.

"Jeff," I paused Sergeant Major Jeff Woods—who seemed to be searching for someone as well, "have you seen Albert anywhere?"

Jeff cocked an eyebrow as he took a quick glance around the corridor. "No. I'm looking for him, myself. I guess you heard that Tyre's around," He assessed. His tone was heavy with a thick Slavic accent that I sometimes couldn't understand; it was embarrassing to have to ask him to repeat words he said.

"Is he usually _this_ hard to find?" I asked the brute of a Marine before me. Jeff wasn't as tall as the other brutes aboard the ship, but he had the mass to make up for it—and the hair. While he shaved his beard almost entirely off after the disaster mission on Atmosus, he still kept his hair long and tied up into a ponytail—which went against regulations.

Jeff shook his head in reply to my question. "No. Freud habitually sticks around—albeit, he is in your shadow or something. But he's_ always_ easy to find when you need him."

I gave Jeff a suggested look, veering towards the worst possible outcome. My mind quickly established a sense of realization when I remembered what Freud said to me during our session just before the mutiny. He said that if he came across Tyre, he wouldn't hold back, but he also said that he wouldn't seek out Tyre; where was he?

"I just remembered something," I said as I met Jeff's eyes. "He's not looking for Tyre—I'm positive of this..."

"Hang on, I'll try raising him on the COMM." Jeff put a finger up as he keyed his earpiece with another—not presently wearing his helmet.

I frowned. "You mean you haven't_ already?_" I asked, not hiding the irritation in my tone.

"There wasn't a need to," Jeff told me as he worked his earpiece around, "because I spoke with him about Tyre as well. I wasn't afraid of him going out and looking for the cocksucker; I was afraid he'd just stumble over him. He is very alert, right now, and I didn't want to alarm him, or freak him out with opening a channel if he's in the middle of relaxing somewhere. Freud is not as resilient as you think, doctor."

"I know," I said, sighing as I added, "Hell, I know."

"Uh." Jeff's rough face lit up with a muffled voice responding to his hail. "Freud, are you alright? Where are you, pal?"

The muffled voice—muffled for me, at least—replied, making Jeff sigh in relief. "No, nothing's wrong, buddy, it's just that the medical staff and wounded made it up here, and we wanted to find you before you found Tyre or something."

The muffled voice replied, Jeff smiling at whatever Albert had said. "I believed that as well, but a doc explained in detail about it when I asked. Yeah, apparently that cunt, Dorhan,"—I frowned at the slang used towards Rhine—"made sure that the medical life-support systems stayed intact when his virus went off... You know the emergency medical generators? Yeah, they're still operable, and they're keeping that _waste of womb-space_ alive. So, where are you at?"

The Muffled voice replied, for which Jeff said, "Okay. Stay put there, or just control yourself if you come across Tyre. Trust me, it's better to wait until that asshole wakes up and deal him than just wasting him in his sleep. Out." He redirected his eyes to address me. "He's in the quarters set up for the wounded being brought back from the bays. He's praying to those who have been deemed too critical to save with what we've got, and those already dead."

I smiled slightly, amazed. "I didn't think he would do something like that." I rubbed the back of my head. "I thought he would be pacing around; waiting to get back into the fight or something alike."

Jeff smiled at my astonishment. "He's not resilient, but he's one heck of a good guy. He's blunt..." Jeff shook his head, continuing, "He's blunt, but he's honest. And it helps me, you know?"

I couldn't resist chuckling; the mere mention of something so obvious yet so vague was hilarious for me. "I know. He called me out on conveying everyone's information back to ONI—just like that..." My smile died down when Jeff's expression changed; he was angry, and it wouldn't take someone with a college degree—someone like me—to work out why.

"You were sending everyone's information back to ONI?" He asked—or more grunted. "I'm not surprised... Still, I feel obligated to give you a word of advice." He leaned in close to me, and I had to resist backing up. "Not everyone is going to feel so calm if this revelation was to become public."

I nodded. Jeff was a large man who was known to be aggressive at times. I needed to be cautious, because at this period, if he were to tear me apart and explain why to any passer-bys, I wouldn't be looking at a situation where others wouldn't save me.

"I apologize," I said with as much respect as I could. "I thought Albert would have told everyone—or you, at least. I'm sorry."

Jeff nodded. "I'm going to go check up on Freud." He gave me a stare as he turned around to depart. "Watch who you reveal secrets to, doctor." He continued off down the corridor, passing several Marines as he did; he left me almost sweating.

I only had one session with Jeff Woods, but it was all that I needed to determine him as a person.

Formerly, he served aboard another ship in the Viverz Defence Fleet but was assigned by the Office of Naval Intelligence to assist Red in securing the research data at the Forerunner excavation site on Quaint. His assigned ship was destroyed by the Covenant during the operation, and ONI seemed content with reassigning him to the UNSC_ Kryptonite_. Coincidentally, this was the same ship which would be assigned by FLEETCOM and HIGHCOM to jump in and rescue the same SPARTAN that Jeff served with during the operation to the Forerunner excavation site—Red Jsarez.

I spoke with Jeff when we made the jump to Installation 06. The mission's outcome made Jeff disconcerted; he and the Pelican Dropship pilots were the only to survive. He blamed himself for everyone's death; in all reports, it's probable that he was the cause of the Covenant figuring out his team's presence and causing Red to attempt to sacrifice himself. However, this, in turn, led to the discovering of the Diverted, Halo, the Monarch; Jeff indirectly caused_ so much_ to go right.

He and Red were on friendly terms, from what I knew—which was good, as it could've been so much worst. But it was more of 098 who was on good terms with Jeff; I wondered what would happen if Jeff and Red encountered each other again. Red hadn't yet shown his disposition over the operation's success-failure completion, and it was something I wanted to bring up in the near future—obviously a time when everyone wasn't fighting for their lives.

"I need your advice." I turned at the sound of a voice, finding Tyler Hauver to be standing behind me, grinning as always.

"Shit," I sighed. He gave me a fright, and in a time like this, panics led to dying young. I was still moderately young, so death wasn't something I was eager to meet; I don't think I would ever be anxious to meet death.

"Sorry," He laughed, patting my shoulder, "forget you don't have a motion sensor or SPARTAN hearing-"

"_You_ don't have SPARTAN hearing," I reminded him.

I expected some witty comeback, but his face remained dull in a sarcastic way. "Technically, I _do_... but that's a long story. I'll tell you sometime."

I playfully shrugged. "Might be something we can sit down and discuss over dinner-"

"You mean beer," he jokingly corrected—I hoped he was joking. After I had drunk my sorrows away following my son's death, I promised never to touch alcohol again—even if my son's screaming echoed in my ears for the rest of my life.

I shook my head. "I don't drink these days."

His eyes widened. "But you're_ too young_ to be resorting to age-related crap like that!" He exclaimed. "You _shouldn't_ be drinking anything other than alcohol."

I didn't feel comfortable trying to explain to him why I didn't drink—it brought up the bad memories of my son's last moment... He _screamed_ for me to save him; I promised I would _always_ protect him from "monsters" or "bad people". He died in the _worst_ possible way... Like an animal, he didn't know why he was being killed—he just knew that we both were in danger, and something wanted to hurt us. He was too young to understand the war; he died not knowing why he was experiencing so much pain.

"Yeah," I chuckled along with Tyler before deciding to remove myself from the topic. "So, what did you need my advice with?"

"Two things, actually," He began. "I just got word from Morgan and Cylus." His eyes dropped—not entirely to the ground, but fixating on something in the air between his dead-ahead and the cold, metal floor. "Adam's dead. So's the Elite, Vale Nar 'Sarasee."

My jaw almost dropped—not literally, but my mouth remained open from shock. "Shit," I said the first thing to come to my mind; "Shit" was a typical verbal reaction from Humans when towards negative concepts. "Shit," I repeated, "that's... terrible... Adam? He-_he's dead?_"

Tyler nodded. He and Adam weren't friends but comrades. They didn't like each other but got along well enough to avoid conflict. Surprisingly, Adam didn't hate Tyler over being pushed from command of Night and being replaced by Tyler; Adam considered Tyler a better nomination for the role than he was.

I let out a sigh, venting the air through my mouth and nostrils. Adam was suffering from clinical depression, so perhaps death wasn't something to be afraid of in his vision... I would've thought as much if I hadn't spoken to him one last time, yesterday. He said that he was feeling more optimistic for the future thanks to the words of the Elite, Vale Nar 'Sarasee. Both were dead now.

"How-_how_ can I help with_ this_?" I questioned Tyler, rubbing my forehead. The sweat nearly initiated by Jeff was sure initiated now.

Tyler sighed as he said, "The majority of the Diverted just arrived... I've got to tell them, but I don't know how they'll react; Vale was pretty important in their eyes. I don't want to be standing before them when they hear that he's dead."

"You want_ my_ advice?" I asked, not understanding what_ I_ could offer.

Tyler shrugged. "You're an expert with the mind-"

"Human minds," I clarified, "I know nothing about alien minds."

Tyler nodded ever so slightly, rubbing his chin. "How different can our and their minds be?"

"_Very_ different," I replied. "Our neurological network and brain wave patterns work differently."

Realization appeared on his face. "That explains why we have different opinions on religion." He was being sarcastic, but his eyes still snapped to me. "Can't you make any comparisons? Can't you help me in_ any_ way, here?"

I rubbed my forehead, letting out a frustrated breath through my nostrils. "I... I'd recommend telling them upfront. The Sangheili are creatures dedicated to honor and respect. They would probably find it dishonorable and disrespectful for one to keep the information you have from them. Uh... okay..." I hesitated, "if you're too worried, try taking a few of your most able-bodied men with you, but I doubt anything will happen that would invoke violence or any other source of confliction."

Tyler breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, he had no real intention of telling the aliens without advice. He didn't hate the Covenant—he hadn't fought long enough to hate them. And while he had lost friends to them, he seemed to understand their situation. He had a strong, negative disposition towards religion; he found religion to be a controlling device. I didn't believe in his opinion, but as a psychologist, I couldn't allow_ my_ opinions to conflict with those of my patients.

"Alright, I will try your advice out," Tyler said. "But if I get killed, I'm haunting your ass."

"Joy," I sarcastically said. "So, what about the other thing you needed my input with?"

This one was on a more personal level for Tyler; he quickly stole a look around the corridor we were in, looking for if anyone was nearby before he turned his attention back to me. "It's about Sierra- Um... Red? It's about him..."

"Need I say that you can tell me _anything?_" I asked.

"Yeah, I know," He said, his eyes zooming around and not staying on one target for long. "I'm just not really sure if this is correct, that's all."

"What's correct?" At that moment, I realized that my curiosity was getting the better of me. "Oh, no, no, no—_don't_ tell me unless you want to."

Tyler nodded before letting out a sigh. "It's about Circinius IV."

Circinius IV was one of the earliest planetoid casualties to the Covenant. Nearly the entire population of the planet was wiped out save a few lucky people who later went on to campaign awareness of the Human-Covenant War in the inner colonies. Tyler's parents were a few; he was two years old when Circinius IV came under attack, and he was lucky to have survived. After Section II released information of the SPARTAN-IIs to the public, rumors began to surge about the possibility that the SPARTANs were the ones to have saved the small amount of survivors from Circinius IV. This story was soon proven true when survivors of Circinius IV started to recount their tales of being rescued by SPARTANs—likely sanctioned by Section II to boost morale.

"What about it?" I knew this was a hard topic for Tyler. Despite being two at the time, the effects of the violence, which happened around him, were visible from a particular angle—if one was to look.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but those, who survived the invasion, owe it to the SPARTANs," He said.

I nodded. "I read up on some of the re-telling from survivors." I rubbed the corner of my lower lip. "You think Red was a part of the team that saved you and your parents," I concluded.

Tyler nodded. "It's not likely... but there could be that chance." He raised his eyes from the ground to me. I saw a slight eagerness in them. "If he saved me and family all those years ago, or assisted in saving us, I owe him."

"You want my advice on whether you should approach him about it or not," I made the assumption—which I thoroughly deduced to be authentic.

"I'm afraid that he might've lost a comrade on Circinius or something; we don't know anything about the SPARTAN casualties other than the fact that there aren't any." He scoffed, adding "Section II can go screw themselves; SPARTANs _have_ died, and I know the numbers of how many exactly are _too high_ for any type of comfort."

"I don't think Red's the type to take offense to questions like that," I said.

"Yeah, well, you can't be sure with him."

"Just trust me on this." I took a step forward to grab his attention further. "Red needs to know that his actions as a SPARTAN have had positive effects on people because he's bordering on the line of falling into depression over being a SPARTAN all those years. He acknowledges what the SPARTANs have done for Humanity, but he feels upset that he, in turn, will never be recognized by others."

"This could help him?" Tyler asked.

"I hope so," I said, "I really, really do, Tyler, because he's got a lot of mental issues, and he's seriously lacking any quality of self-confidence."

Tyler didn't reply; he was fixated on the space behind me, musing. It was no typical task; his words could prove the difference between Red's sanity and insanity. I didn't believe Red to be closing in on the realm of madness, but there was something there; he was struggling with something. He wasn't healthy, mentally wise, and anything Tyler might say or do—anything anyone might say or do—would have an effect on him.

Tyler's eyes shifted; he was no longer musing, but concentrating on something behind me. "Is _that_ an Iguana?" He asked.

I turned to have my brows cock in surprise. David Larson was walking down the corridor that led to one of the perimeters. With him was what I assumed to be Fireteam Xeno and Iron. There was also the inclusions of Yoplap, another Grunt, and an additional Jackal. Where was Red?

"Weren't you guys assigned to the port-midship hanger?" Tyler asked them—Xeno and Iron specifically since David received no such assignment.

"The Covenant are increasing pressure on the port-midship hanger bay," David said—or more grunted. "Sierra-098 correctly cumulated that he was a target who was garnering the attention of a majority of their forces."

"So you just abandoned him?" Tyler asked in disbelief.

The Marines of Xeno and Iron wore disturbed faces. They were all accounted for; heavy weapons specialist, marksman, XO, scout, leader; why did they look as if they lost something important forever?

"We didn't abandon him," David reassured, "he gave us the order to retreat. T'Rakas is also with him, and will amount to what Sierra-098 lost in manpower with our retreat."

Tyler was going to say something, but stopped for some reason unbeknownst to me. He instead watched David, Yoplap, and the two Fireteams escort the two Covenant soldiers past us and further down the corridor. The group got looks of curiosity and confusion from a number of different engineers, pilots, Navy personnel, and Marines as they moved to the inner compartments of the barracks.

I usually carried an extended checklist in my mind for certain contexts. One checklist was for surrealism. The presence of two Covenant prisoners, the grim looks from the Marines of Xeno and Iron and David's excuse made me tick off a number of boxes.

Tyler was thinking the same; his eyes were wide in confusion and his lower lip hung slightly. We both watched as David and the others disappeared around a corner in the corridor ahead. After they had gone, without coordination but in unison, we both turned to look down the corridor that they just came from—the corridor one would take to reach the port-midship hanger bay.

"Are you thinking about going to help them?" I asked.

"I might, if Colonel Keyes or White were here," Tyler replied. "But they are not here, and the safe zone needs a combat CO to apply coordination... We just have to hope for the best."

"Can you redirect another team to assist them?" I asked.

Tyler rubbed his right eyebrow as he thought. "Not really. I only said I'd go to help them because I'm pretty good in a combat scenario—not boasting, or anything."

"So is David," I said to myself more than to him.

"...Yeah," Tyler mused. "What's he doing back_ here_... when he should be staying_ there_ to kick some major ass?"

"Irrelevant. Is there_ anyone_ who can offer Red the assistance he needs that you can send that way?" I asked.

Tyler smiled, still looking down the corridor that would lead one to Red if they so desired. "Coincidentally—and luckily, I might add—there are some heavy-league badasses that could help Red and the Hybrid."

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Thel 'Lodam)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[Unknown, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[Unknown]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Midship Section Of The Charon-Class Light Frigate: UNSC**_** Kryptonite**_**, Interior Access Corridor D-3]**

* * *

><p>"BACK!" Krnat 'Xerosai roared as he pushed Rick Cylus into the cover of a bulkhead alcove ahead of leaping in front of Toless Morgan just as a barrage of plasma fire sped the Human's way.<p>

Krnat's energy shields soaked up the plasma fire meant for Morgan as he backed up—which in turn made Morgan back up and hurry for the cover of a doorway arch.

Qrs 'Jaragsai came rushing in with his needler rifle in hand. He quickly and successfully slid into a bulkhead alcove to provide Krnat with supporting fire so he could retreat to cover as well.

I was already in cover, gripping my carbine tightly to my chest and peering out to appraise the enemy.

I zoomed my eye lenses in and saw that the foe had retired to the protection of arches and alcoves as well as we had. From the size and shape of the shadows being illuminated onto the ground by the light of the corridor, I saw that we were against Sangheili, Unggoy, and Kig-Yar foes. They came through the breach in the hull that was visible further up the corridor; a breach, that's transpiration of reporting, was absent

"Hauver," Cylus hailed the Human Major over his COMM, "there's a hull rupture in interior access corridor D-3!"

I removed my focus from the Human and back to the aggressors; as soon as I saw a target, they would fall under my fire. Against the favorable odds, the cover, they had at their disposal, would harden the firefight.

The Human Major must have said his reply for Cylus said, "Affirmative. Night's Wing, out."

Night's Wing was an alternative name for Cylus. Alternative names were not uncommon in the Covenant. Many Sangheili and Jiralhanae replaced their final name—or only name, in the Brutes case—with titles representing actions they committed or tendencies. Some Sangheili replaced their names altogether with radically different names. Such was unorthodox and frowned upon, and one, who had a different name but joined politics, would see his preliminary name returned.

"Our matching equality is imminent," Qrs said, utilizing the local COMM channel to communicate with us all. "While the Huragok's advancements of our energy shield emitters are in the process of elimination from additions that aren't beneficial, you two Humans—your deaths are unavoidable."

"You clearly don't know what we're capable of," Cylus replied; his voice was still thick with emotion over Adam Franti's death. He barely contained his composure. I suspected Qrs was carefully watching him for any signs of flaws similar to those of mine that previously arose to form.

"A-a-are a... al... all Hum-Humans... Humans so fu-fal o-o-of thems-s-s... selves?" I asked Cylus.

Cylus hissed in reply before saying, "I'm going to kill you."

"There's a guaranteeing measure of complication within the range of expectation," Qrs said. "But now is not a time where such can be allowed. Stow your hatred and cooperate, Human.'Lodam, cease your aggravating."

No volley of enemy fire was coming our way, I realized after turning my attention from Cylus back to the foe. The enemy were more skilled than those we had met before in the current battle for the ship; this Lance knew not to fire their weapons until a target presented itself. If the upcoming firefight wasn't already against our favor...

The problem would not be before us if we had Forerunner equipment at our leisure. Grenades, weapons, and gravitational amplifications were among the many tools taken from Installation 06. But where were they all? Locked away by the Human rebel leader, Rhine Dorhan. The protective metal shielding the storage compartment wouldn't even succumb to ionized plasma. The method saw application as a means to protect the relics from Covenant retrieval teams that had managed to intrude on the vessel; the design had many flaws. Apparently, only the rebel leader knew the "codes" to unlock the door that led into the compartment, and he laid dead by the Demon's hand.

I ceased all my hatred for the Demon over his betrayal of his promise. For one: I should have expected such. For two: the Demon was another when he made the promise. Still, I couldn't help but find particular actions of the Demon to be nothing short of a jape on all others. Was the actual Demon persona a jester? Was the modern day circumstances all but a theater for his comedic act?

"Leader, what is your plan?" Krnat asked Qrs. Krnat and Qrs were of the same rank, but Qrs got elected as the leader of their team and was hence given the title "Leader" rather than an actual rank; the Special Warfare Group lacked an extensive ranking structure.

"Humans, 'Lodam, attract their attention with suppressive fire," Qrs laid the foundations of a plan. "Krnat, you and I shall wait until their attention remains fully latched to the others before we activate our camouflage and infiltrate their lines."

"Read-ready wh-wh-wh-when yo-yo... yo-you are," I replied, prepared to lean out from the alcove I was in when Qrs gave the order.

"Humans?" Qrs asked.

"Give the get-go," Morgan replied. Out of the two, he was the more calm over Franti's death. But it was part of his persona; part of his mentality.

"Initiate," Qrs calmly gave the order to begin. I saw him activate his camouflage from the alcove that served as his cover. Without delay, I and the Humans leaned out of cover and began suppressing the foes with our weapon fire. The Humans didn't lean so far to avoid being hit—such was not an order conveyed to them, and I admired their sense to do so without express emphasis.

The enemy Covenant warriors returned the gesture; they leaned out of cover and began firing back; they returned to cover when their shields started to flare at a dangerous rate, but not before three Unggoy fell.

The Covenant were not unaware of Qrs and Krnat's presence, but they_ were_ unaware of their stealth capabilities. They didn't notice Qrs and Krnat leave the cover they were in and charge their way until stray rounds from their side began hitting the two and rippling their shields. By then, it was too late. The Covenant adversary had no time to react before Qrs and Krnat connected with their lines and broke apart their perimeter.

My eyes were on Qrs. Secretly, I always doubted the tales of his skills. What doubt that existed in my mind went extinct when I beheld Qrs snap his grip around the throat of a Ruuhtian and slam it backwards onto the ground. The impact of being slammed down onto the ground at the hands of Qrs' strength immediately severed the Kig-Yar's spine.

Satisfied with the Ruuhtian's death, Qrs rose and swung his arm around, connecting his clenched fist to the face of an aggressor Sangheili; the sad fanatic flipped sideways onto the ground where Qrs' sword met him.

I shot down a flanking Ruuhtian as Qrs grabbed the shoulder of another Sangheili offender and used the grab to support himself as he flipped over the foe. He had to bend his knees to avoid hitting the ceiling of the corridor but landed behind the assailant successfully where he slammed his fist into the Sangheili's back. I heard the snap of the Sangheili's spine from where I stood

Krnat was also making progress; while not as skilled as the more sophisticated Qrs, many fell to his blade. The duo seemed to use a tactic: Qrs would eliminate the hostile Sangheili and any Kig-Yar and Unggoy that got in his way whilst Krnat would deal with the rest.

A Sangheili foe drew his blade and lunged at Qrs. 'Jaragsai masterfully dodged this, circling around the Sangheili and slicing at his legs before he could react to Qrs' dodge. Qrs finished the Sangheili off as the aggressor tumbled to the ground, roaring in pain; a quick slice at the neck decapitated the enemy.

Afterwards, Qrs jumped high backwards, his jump being high enough that he managed a somersault with the support of small thrusters in his thigh-guard. He crunched his body into a fetal position as he was in the air to avoid hitting anything, but returned to his original posture as he landed behind another Sangheili foe. The power in his armor that allowed such a maneuver must have been immense.

Qrs waited for the Sangheili—who happened to be the final foe at hand—to spin and back-step. Krnat came up behind the hostile—having finished off the others with our support, yet unbeknownst to the final Sangheili who was too focused on Qrs—and pushed the last foe back towards Qrs. 'Jaragsai snapped his grip around the stumbling aggressor's throat, his arm dodging the hostiles panicked slash of his blade. The Sangheili died when Qrs slammed him into a bulkhead; the slamming motion must have crushed the Sangheili's spine as he went limp, and Qrs didn't persist.

Qrs let the body drop before turning back to face me and the two Humans. Bodies and blood covered the ground below Qrs and Krnat's hooves. They both deactivated their energy swords and did the hand signal,_ It is secure, approach._

I popped another ammo case into my carbine as I left cover and rallied on to Qrs and Krnat's position, the two Humans doing the same. I heard Cylus bitterly grunt as I passed him, but he raised no further quarrels. I hated myself as much as he and Morgan did; I did something terrible.

"Look there." A hand appeared at the edge of my vision, pointing at an unknown weapon by the dead four-fingered hands of a Sangheili clad in equally obscure armor. "That weapon isn't known to me."

I turned to face the Minor as I continued moving. It was certain: my eyes were the only that laid witness to the "Ghost's" presence. "Ghosts know all things, yes? No? Yes?" I asked, adding the extra yes and no to emphasize my question further. "Why does this elude you?"

The Minor cocked his head. In reality, I was speaking to him in my mind—hence the lack of my stutter and looks from Morgan and Cylus, who believed me already too crazy; talking to nothing wouldn't help their unhealthy perspective on me.

"I refer to myself as 'a Ghost' because it is the most familiar in your mind," The Sangheili Minor explained.

"You are not purple," I observed. "Or hovering. Or Making a whirling sound."

The Sangheili Minor tilted his head but didn't raise a further argument when reality returned as the primary focus.

"This is new," Morgan observed, picking up the weapon the Sangheili Minor Ghost pointed out moments before. The gun looked like a carbine mixed with a plasma repeater, but even that analogy didn't suffice; it was entirely foreign. It was possibly an experimental weapon, but why would heretics have such? And why was I only encountering the weapon now? It didn't seem special enough to be something of a confidential nature, so its development should've been made public.

"Have you seen such before, brothers?" Krnat asked the two of us—excluding the Humans for obvious reasons.

I shook my head to avoid speaking; Qrs did the same, but for other reasons. When asked questions that Qrs could answer with a physical motion, he would often resort to doing so.

Krnat knelt and picked up another of the mysterious weapons before firing a few rounds off in a safe direction. It shot smaller, blue plasma rounds to those of the plasma rifle, and at a faster rate. Overall, it seemed too similar to the plasma rifle or repeater to exist; weapons with the same uses as others were rare in the Covenant arsenal.

"I like it. I think I'll hold onto it," Morgan said as he slung his assault rifle over his back and bought his new weapon up to his chest, ready to aim it when he had to; Cylus was content enough with his battle rifle.

"You know how to use it?" Krnat asked as we continued forward to our destination, leaving the bodies of those we killed behind... and leaving Vale's even further. I wanted to go back and carry him with us, but such was impossible at the time.

"I have a natural tendency of working my way around Covenant toys," Morgan replied in his toneless, medium-pitched voice. "This particular one works trivially so far."

"Were you comparing me to the vehicle Ghost?" The Minor reappeared beside me. He never left me, but more of remained silent so reality could be of my foremost focus. "Or a spiritual figment?"

I snorted. "As a Sangheili, you should know that the Ghost figments match none of the specifications I set."

"I never read any reports of Ghost figments. What reports were there, anyway? Were not all those who spoke of seeing figures contained and labeled insane?" He asked.

I, ever so slightly, growled. "Why do you bother me?" I asked with a hiss. "Ever since you appeared, you have acted as if we know each other! Such is not!_ Who are you?_"

The Minor shook his head. "Forgive me, I am not one to give information unless it's asked of me. This is to prevent sounding ignorant to knowledge my superiors may already have. It's an unfortunate trend," He turned to face me as I, and the other continued. "My name is Skae 'Kuzomee. I was a... friend of Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee before I was killed at the orders of the Prophet of Pity..."

"Why are you haunting me?" I asked.

"Because 'haunting' Vale Nar 'Sarasee proved futile. It's hard to explain... just know that for me to be fully_ there_ for one, their mind needs to be weak. Vale's mind was strong, so I could not fully manifest myself; he only saw me with confusion. Your mind is weak, so I appear with full clarity to you."

"My mind is_ 'weak'?!_" I hissed.

"Some in-depth explanations require one to be blunt," 'Kuzomee explained.

I rolled my eyes, clattering my mandibles in disapproval. "Be it what you said or not. Why do you desire to haunt in the first place?" I asked, bringing the topic back on track.

"It is not a desire to haunt you, but a desire to repay one who prevented my Essence from going dark forever," 'Kuzomee explained; I had no idea what he spoke.

" 'Essence'?" I questioned. "So you_ are_ a Ghost?_ What_ are you, if not? A semblance of my mind? Am I going insane?"

"Neither of those," 'Kuzomee said. "I am a creation of technological power beyond the realm of comprehension." He craned his head from looking at me to dead ahead. "To be clear, when I died, my memories, my conscious was saved and preserved. Now, they have been inflicted upon your mind and mutated so you can see me. So yes, in a matter of speaking, your mind is at fault, but only because the seed was planted."

I frowned under my helmet. I couldn't believe such nonsense, but I wanted to know more. "Someone-"

"Something," 'Kuzomee corrected.

"_...Something_ has touched and changed my brain so I can see you? Something has given my mind your very matter of character? Impossible."

"Again, incomprehensible," 'Kuzomee repeated.

"Attention, all hands," The Human Captain's voice came over the ship-wide COMM we were all connected up to... There was panic in her voice.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Courtney Jsarez)<strong>

* * *

><p>"Attention, all hands," I hailed the entire crew of the<em> Kryptonite<em>, "the Covenant Supercarrier is on a bombing course." I returned my gaze to the viewport; the speed, in which the carrier was descending, made my muscles tense. "ETA is seven minutes—by the Monitor's calculation."

I turned my gaze to the hole Fleighted Fire had cut in the viewport so he could leave the _Kryptonite_ immediately. "The Monitor's on route to try and take it down," I continued, "but... he mightn't make it..." Tears swelled in my eyes. Several minutes would have passed before Fleighted Fire reached the necessary radius to hack the ship... several minutes too long.

"If the Monitor can't stop it," I continued, "then it's been an honor serving with you all."

I disconnected from the COMM channel. I made the effort to contact the ONI Prowler that was tracking the Supercarrier before making the announcement I just did, but the AI onboard said that the_ Infinity_ was still too far off to save us. It was all down to Fleighted Fire... but there was a percentage of a chance that he would save us, and that percentage was one in a thousand.

If the bridge crew wasn't already in complete panic, they were now. Nearly everyone was in total disarray; the young female officer was crying again, being comforted by her friend all the same. Others were upset as well, but only one other was crying—a young male officer who looked like he was about to have a panic attack; two officers ran to his aid when he began hyperventilating.

Everyone else was either at their stations, doing their futile best to try and bring the ship back online or were pacing around, anxious at their imminent, very likely deaths. Some were tearing up like I was but couldn't cry—they were either too emotionally drained or didn't want to look weak; if they saw my tears, I doubted they would keep their own.

Why was the Supercarrier even on a bombarding course? They wanted Fleighted Fire._ (Inner turmoil. Not all concord the renouncement of life that many have fallen astray into for the apprehension of Fleighted Fire.)_ In other words, the Elites on the Supercarrier began arguing over how to deal with us, and the radical faction won.

It was a fearful thing, acknowledging that you were likely to die in a subject of minutes. You had your hopes that prevention of your death might unfold, but kept rebuking the hopes. In the end, you wanted to die at peace, not filled with disappointment. There was no way in hell that Fleighted Fire would stop the Supercarrier; it just needed to get close enough to begin launching plasma torpedos on us, and the Kryptonite would meet her end; torn asunder.

Fleighted Fire was still visible through the viewport as he ascended to the descending carrier. On Halo, he was connected up to a teleportation network frame that allowed him to teleport instantly to anywhere on the ring at any period. Here, he could only move as fast as his propulsion systems allowed—and that was not near fast enough. By the time he reached the Supercarrier, it would be_ right_ on top of us. Fleighted Fire himself expressed concern over the status of the ship if he_ did_ manage to get to the carrier in time. One way or another, we were going to be hit_ hard_. It didn't matter if the carrier fired only one salvo; the amount of weapons the carrier had would almost destroy us with a single salvo.

"Captain?" Commander Juan Cortez, my XO, came up to the side of my command chair. "Is there any word from your brother?"

Cortez was showing an unprecedented volume of interest in Red's welfare. Juan and I kept a professional relationship, but he unquestionably cared for me—in a loyal way. His fretting for Red shifted towards being centered on the fact that Red represented hope. If he lived, no matter what, there was still the prospect that we might make it through this. That wasn't so. My last report from Red wasn't music to my ears; he was suffering a lot for being a SPARTAN—every special force operative on the carrier was out for his head. Now, they were probably retreating due to the carrier's descent. Or maybe they didn't care about dying, and just wanted Red's head for themselves.

"The last report was ten minutes ago," I said, "and it wasn't the best report that had ever reached my ears. He and T'Rakas are barely holding them off... and at the time, there was no sign of the Covenant—or whoever they are—retreating—which implies that they are probably going to martyr themselves."

Cortez nodded, understanding the situation as he turned to look at the descending carrier. "Captain, as a fellow Commanding Officer, tell me honestly, do you think we'll survive this?"

I turned to face him. He did the same, turning from the viewport to me, tilting his brow for an answer. "Fleighted Fire won't make it in time," I sincerely said, "he said as much when I asked him..." I quickly glanced around the Bridge, "I'm sure the rest of the command crew know this as well."

Cortez huffed amusingly. "You know me—always the one to double-check."

"That's what makes you an asset," I admitted. For so long, I never acknowledged my crew's talents. That wasn't going to be so anymore. In the last minutes of my life, I was going to revolve that around the best I could.

The fact that I was going to die was the hardest fact I ever had to work my head around. There was a one in a thousand percent chance that Fleighted Fire might make it in time, but the chances were too dim. I didn't outright tell the crew the truth; there was yet Covenant soldiers around the ship, and the combat personnel needed to be at their maximum fighting capacity. That didn't stop the command crew from inferring the nearly non-existent chances we have to survive. We couldn't even abandon the ship—there was no time, and even if we did somehow manage to get a few people in vehicles and moving, we'd just get picked-off by Banshees, Phantoms. Or both.

"Thank you," Cortez replied to my compliment. "It's nice to know that I did something constructive..." He began tearing up. "Excuse me." He quickly but calmly hurried off. I never saw him show any emotions on the sad side—I couldn't blame his concealment.

My eyes widened at the sound. I was an idiot; it happened before. The Covenant were doing what earned me a stab wound on my thigh—they were attacking home.

The whirling increased until a Phantom hovered down in front of the Bridge's viewpoint; the bay doors were open with a Grunt on a turret and several Elites adorned in heavy armor behind the Grunt, in the bay.

Despite my death coming from the carrier, I didn't accept it. I was in the process of accepting and understanding it, but that was it: process. Right now, I still wasn't ready to die, and that's why I jumped out of my chair and dropped to the ground.

But plasma fire didn't tear the glass of the viewpoint apart. I was confused until I got up and looked. Being an ONI ship, it had the aspects of ONI ships. Plasma-resistant viewpoint shieldings were among the many variants added by the Office of Naval Intelligence. The shieldings of the hanger and vehicle bays didn't provide as much protection; it allowed engineers to cut through the shieldings for flight craft to escape if the ship's systems were shutting down and they needed to leave the vessel ASAP. However, a sustained amount of plasma fire was still required to breach the shieldings of the bay doors, so it did have its defenses, but even those didn't stop the invading Covenant.

Substantial sustained plasma fire_ would_ breach the viewpoint glass as well, but nothing Phantoms had could offer the glass shieldings of the viewpoint a pounding hard enough; ONI ensured that the Bridge remained the most protected part of the _Kryptonite_.

The command crew quickly retreated to cover just as a precaution. The Grunt on the turret was pissed after his plasma fire didn't do anything—from what I could see. I almost laughed, but the sound died in my throat when the Elites in the Phantom's bay leaped from it and used their now visible jetpacks to hover over in front of the viewport.

Four of the Elites were carting something together... some heavy turret or something..._ (Locust)_

"RUN!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, quickly getting to my feet and rushing with the rest of the command crew out into the corridor leading to the elevators.

I heard the crackling of glass behind us as we all ran. The smell and sizzling of plasma were also present in my nose and ears respectively, and I began to panic. Why the fuck didn't the Gravemind warn me?_ (Do you have an apparition of a belief that I consider value for your life? My entire existence is obsolete. Very strict parameters are keeping me from destroying myself along with your sibling's brain, and your survival is not part of the criterion. I warned, did I not? 'Locust'? END YOUR COMPLAINING!)_

We all arrived at the end of the corridor. Courtesy of Red, one elevator already had its emergency panel cut away, so our escape was made slightly easier.

"Someone get the other panel removed!" Joseph Gamble shouted.

"And someone get climbing down!" Another officer, Ted Leddison, added with a shout.

The closest officer, James Frassal, climbed down the hatch first, grabbing onto the shaft ladder and descending as fast as he could.

The next officer, Pepper Garcia, climbed down next. We were moving too slow.

I turned around at the distant barks of order from the Elites. I drew my magnum as did several other officers and aimed it back down the corridor that the Elites would be charging down at any given minute.

"HURRY!" Joseph roared, kneeling in front of me so any fire might hit him instead of me—if the Elites had terrible aim.

No one wanted to die; even if our deaths were inevitable, everyone still wanted to escape the Elites and survive until the very last moment. No one was going to sacrifice themselves, and run straight at the Elites to put them off.

"COME ON!" Cortez yelled. "GET MOVING!"

"Second hatch is gone!" Someone yelled.

I heard scuffling behind me as the officers split up and hurried over to the second elevator. I could hear complete anarchy; people were cursing as they were pushed over by other crew members by mistake, or intentionally.

"Captain!" Gamble grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. "You're the next one down."

Reluctantly, I nodded. I pushed past him and into one of the elevators just as gunfire set off behind me; plasma fire was subsequent.

"GO!" Gamble hurried me down the hatch after I holstered my magnum. Someone already on the shaft ladder below me steadied my legs onto the ladder's steps as my hands wrapped around the cylinder bars before I began working my way down.

I heard yelling and panicked screams, followed by plasma and projectile weapon fire. Followed by more screams and yells... and the growling of Elites that sounded so close that my muscles constricted.

"Fuck, heads up!" Gamble yelled. I looked up and saw an officer fall through the hatch and down the shaft, screaming as he fell. My eyes followed him down. The two already climbing down the shaft tried to grab him and stop his fall, but their hands failed to catch him, and the officer hit the bottom of the shaft, a crack echoing up the shaft which made my muscles tense.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself. I hadn't stopped climbing down as I watched the officer fall, but I had to now. I leaned off of the ladder and peered down. Below me was an officer frozen in shock—it was the young officer that was displaying her sorrow of the episode the utmost back on the Bridge.

"Hey," I tapped her head with my boot. "Hey, get a move on."

She didn't move. Shock had her frozen and whimpering.

"HEY!" I repeated, louder. "You need to move!"

Bethany Jayde—that was her name. She graduated from a Navy college and FLEETCOM assigned her to the_ Kryptonite_ for her skills. Despite her standing, she was always quiet, and fearful of encountering the Covenant. She must've seen the falling officer—who I identified as Benjamin Hardinworth—hit the bottom of the shaft. Even I tensed up when I saw him hit the bottom, so Bethany's reaction was all but normal.

She wasn't moving; she was shell-shocked; I still wasn't ready to die. "Sorry," I croakly said as I kicked the bottom of my boot into the top of the young officer's head as hard as I could. A few kicks and the young women automatically released her grip and fell. To my dismay, her falling knocked the officer below her off, and he screamed as he fell but continued screaming after slamming onto the bottom of the shaft—he survived, but not intact.

Tearing up, I hastened my descent as two other officers climbed through the emergency hatch located on the floor of the elevator above me. I hoped none saw what I did. I subconsciously justified it on the basis that we were all going to die, but that one percent chance took a hold on me. I was egotistical beyond belief, and Red would hate me—the Gravemind_ had_ to have told him._ (No. Your instinctual act, to persist, is admirable. I remunerate those who leave a positive, perpetual impression on me.) _

The screams of the officer were still in my ears as I neared the bottom of the shaft. Officers, who were climbing down the other shaft, had come around and entered this one to tend to the officer. The Elites were still roaring up the shaft, and I could sense that whoever they were attacking would soon be dead.

"Fu-FUCK!" Gamble cried as he slipped, falling down towards me. He wouldn't hit me, but he was still too high up—he would die. I reached out and grabbed for him, managing to grab his flailing arm. Thanks to me, his fall slowed, and he would survive if he hit the bottom of the shaft, but he in turn ripped me from the ladder. We both fell, but we both landed safely; the bodies of the two who fell and died softened our fall and kept us from hurting ourselves severely.

I quickly got to my feet and looked around. Hardinworth's spine was sticking out of his neck, and Bethany had blood bubbling from her mouth; the impact of hitting the ground caused internal damage.

I couldn't look at her for long, and turned my attention to the wounded officer, Markus Drake, who had a dislocated leg. "Move him out of the shaft!" I ordered, rushing out. Following my orders, two other officers, Leonard Parker, and Ted leddison, dragged Drake out as he screamed; his leg was_ under_ the rest of his body, so moving him meant dragging his dislocated leg over the ground with the pressure of his body on it.

Gamble was out safely and the other officer that was climbing down the shaft after him, Sou Cho-Hyunga, followed him out of the shaft. The other officers, who managed to get to the corridor at the bottom of the shaft, were Lilly Gantant, Calvin Etera, James Frassal and Pepper Garcia. The others must had been killed by the Elites before they managed to climb down the shaft... Cortez and so many others I knew.

"Wait, Rangers?" Calvin asked in an alarmed tone which set of universal alarms in all our minds.

He was right: we_ weren't_ safe. But we_ were_ dead. As soon as we all rose to prepare for the Elite Rangers that we could hear descending the shaft, the ship rocked, and explosions rang all around me.

The salvo had hit. I didn't die. My body was on fire, but I was alive, and I eventually rose after a few minutes and looked around; my ears were ringing. There were breaches in the hull all around me with plasma still melting the bulkhead of the corridor.

Bodies were everywhere as well. James, Pepper, Leonard, Cho-Hyunga, Ted, Drake; they were all dead save Joseph Gamble and Lilly Gantant. The bodies were barely recognizable, though; the bodies appeared melted from plasma and fire along with being contorted from explosions.

Lilly and Gamble weren't without injury. Gamble was holding his arm tightly to his chest with blood seeping through his fingers and Lilly had scratches and bruises all over her with blood covering almost all of her body—it was either her blood or that of those dead. There was also purple blood from an Elite that must have been slung on her from the shaft due to the impact; Elite bodies were everywhere, and all seven were present and accounted for after I quickly glanced around.

Lilly had acquired wounds to make her beyond recognition, but she still managed to steady me by holding my shoulders and looked me in the eyes to check if I was_ all there._

"Captain?" Lilly checked on me, running her hands over my body to look for any flesh wounds. "You alright?"

Feeling like I couldn't talk—probably from being shell-shocked—I nodded instead.

Lilly finished checking me over and smiled in relief. "You're fine, thank God."

Then why did I feel like my skin was melted off? Red; I felt whatever pain he was suffering, so he was still alive. That was good, but there was the imminent second salvo... that the carrier should've fired already.

Curious, I looked through one of the massive new breaches in the corridor's hull and saw the Supercarrier slowly descending to the earth. Its energy shields were fluctuating, and static electricity circled the huge ship as it glided downwards... towards the wreckage of the_ Kryptonite_.

Fleighted Fire had saved us but had also indirectly killed us straight afterward.

"Go fucking figure," Gamble grumbled aloud when he saw the Supercarrier; he mostly always grumbled when he spoke. "Of fucking course! Yep, yeah," He slung his arm in the air out of anger, "I understand, Karma, this is just a last 'fuck you'!"

Lilly mustn't have seen the Supercarrier. Confused, she turned around and gasped when she saw the carrier heading straight for us.

It was lucky we even managed to survive the first salvo—even more fortunate that Fleighted Fire managed to disable the carrier before the second. No amount of luck was going to get us out of this.

Too bad luck didn't exist. Chance, destiny, karma and so much else didn't exist. Everything that had resulted was the way the universe worked.

It was not a case of luck or chance when an ONI Prowler materialized out of thin air above the massive breach in the hull that stretched across the entire corridor; the corridor looked like it had collapsed in on itself.

Gamble laughed in disbelief and Lilly started crying as the Prowler hovered closer to the breach, the ramp at the bottom of the Prowler lowering. They must have been observing us closely if they happened to be directly already in front of us so soon after the carrier was disabled.

Two people were on the Prowler's lowered ramp. One appeared adorned in ODST armor, but the other in armor I had never seen before.

"Captain Jsarez?" The one in ODST armor—albeit, an odd resembling set of ODST armor—asked.

They must have tracked my neural interface; I was their priority. The carrier's propulsion systems were somewhat operational, so the carrier wasn't falling at full speed into the_ Kryptonite's_ wreckage—we still had time to escape, and that's why they came to our rescue.

"Yes!" I yelled back.

Two more soldiers wearing armor, I never saw before, came down onto the ramp. They must've been a new breed of SPARTANs—like the SPARTAN-IIIs that Red told me about. The new two along with the SPARTAN that was already present leaped from the ramp and through the hull breach and used their thruster packs to steady themselves to the ground of the corridor.

The three split up and ran over to each of us—each picked up one of us; one Gamble, one Lilly, and one me, who_ deliberately_ brushed his hand over my breast as he picked me up; the pressure he applied when he grazed my breast told me that he did it purposely. I froze, but not enough to stop me from wrapping my arms around his armored neck as the SPARTAN leaped back through the breach and onto the Prowler's ramp. His armor and thrusters gave him the extra boost he needed to reach the ramp.

The SPARTAN lowered me to the ground but didn't offer me a hand up; the ODST did. He knelt down next to me as the ramp retracted back into the Prowler's bottom. "Ma'am, name's Tobias O'Reilly and I'm your guardian angle for today."

He gave me a hand up. "Don't worry," He steadied me to my feet, "our AI, Izex, will have us out of here in no time."

I shook my head, grabbing his armored shoulder tightly. "No, not yet—if I lived, maybe... maybe some of my crew survived as well."

O'Reilly's visor's tint tone brightened so I could see his face; he was wearing a gloomy expression, and shifted his eyesight to another soldier wearing ODST armor that came out of nowhere.

"Ma'am," The new ODST said, his voice cold and toneless, "the fusion reactors of your ship, the UNSC_ Kryptonite_, are unstable due to the carrier's bombardment and will detonate any minute. We are leaving just as soon as we retrieve the two Forerunner AIs you mentioned."

"You don't understand-"

"Your brother's down there," The ODST finished me off with a sharp gesture of his hand, "I know. I'm aware of the personnel onboard your ship, and the name of the SPARTAN you were sent to retrieve from Halo. The revelation that SPARTAN-098 was the brother of the Captain of the ship sent to secure his safety offered up a new layer of theories revolving around your disappearance."

"Fisher," O'Reilly protested, "has Izex got an idea on when the fusion reactors will go off?"

"They're unstable," The ODST named Fisher reminded O'Reilly. "One definition of the word is that an accurate calculation is impossible." Fisher turned to face me. "Securing SPARTAN-098 would add to the bonus ONI will undoubtedly give me and my unit, but I'm not willing to sacrifice this ship."

ONI mercenaries; skilled ex-special forces operatives sometimes worked for ONI with no strings attached. They were similar to actual ONI agents, but regularly didn't know about all of ONI's dark secrets, and hence wouldn't have loyalties conflicted during certain missions. There was more to it, but these small facts were what I knew from rumors throughout the Navy.

This group seemed to have a basic grasp on some of ONI's intrigues.

"You can't-" I tried to protest, but my words left me. "...There's more than just my brother down there. There's my sister as well, and I'm_ not_ leaving them behind."

Fisher didn't move. "Ma'am, was there not the threat of the fusion reactors, there would still be the threat of the Supercarrier on a direct crash course with your ship."

"Listen," I calmly, but coldly said, "it may not seem like it, but I've just found my brother again, and I refuse to loose him,_ again_—not to your bosses, and not to anything or anyone else_! He wouldn't abandon me!_"

"Ma'am," O'Reilly interjected before things got too heated up between me and Fisher, "he'd want you to live on, not die trying to save him. Your sister would be that way as well."

Everyone I loved was on the_ Kryptonite_, and I couldn't lose them.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

Reviews are appreciated and commended; the highlighting of canon mistakes, typos and/or grammar errors are also gratefully received. Hope the chapter was enjoyable. A few more long chapters and I'll start shifting back to shorter ones which will allow me to update more frequently. Also, I'll be going camping on the 16th for five night; just a warning in case there isn't another update before the 16th. I've got the premise of the next chapter worked out, so I hope the next chapter won't take so long to develop.

Also, thanks bigpapifan238 for following. Hope you stick around. Again, OC rules; leave a single review telling me that you want an OC, or a P.M if you prefer it that way.


	49. Loose Ends and Ties

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Just an update before you get into the action. Some may not remember this (or may not even know if they're a newer reader) but in the prologue, I wrote that a SPARTAN-IV died when his Fireteam leader wouldn't relinquish command to Red, who posed a better tactician. This situation fuelled Red's aversion of the SPARTAN-IVs. As per usual, this won't work as of now; my plans have altered drastically over the months I have written this story.

I don't necessarily need to edit this out; I could work around this. But doing so will probably add an extra chapter to this "arc", and make the flow of the "arc" messier than it needs to be. So, I removed the paragraph . . . I'm ample sure I made no further references to the SPARTAN's death in future chapters, so holes shouldn't pop up—hopefully. Do tell me if you do find any plot holes correlated to the paragraph mentioned above in the prologue or any plot holes, in general.

Never follow my narrative example, because I made the definition of writing mistakes.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Thel 'Lodam)<strong>

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[Unknown, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[Unknown]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Unknown****]**

* * *

><p>It took a moment, but, at a progressive pace, I came to realize the world before me.<p>

White. The ground was white; the sky was white; the directions were white; the background and the horizon were white. The only substance of non-white hue was me. Ironically, I was clad in armor that was once white to uphold my rank of Ultra—how times have passed.

There wouldn't be any criticism if I downgraded my ultimate assertion that I was dead. But this wasn't death. I felt at peace; my mind was clear of any dark thoughts and the wave of flame that washed over me when the corridor exploded encompassing me was no more.

I had been driven into a repressed state before, but never had I been conscious in my subconsciousness—my analogy was full to the margin with flaws. It may have just as rightly been death; if the carrier began launching its volume, very little could stay it save the Monitor, Fleighted Fire . . . I recalled the calculating node of my mind when it made a mistake; memory returned to me. My shields absorbed the blasts—it was another article that sent me out. An object produced this infliction. When the tide of fire sent me soaring back, I must have smashed into the bulkhead.

Qrs 'Jaragsai and Krnat 'Xerosai may have been luckier. The two Humans, without energy shields, would be dead had Qrs and Krnat not covered them with their bodies. I saw as much when I turned to warn them since I was on point. I saw Krnat and Qrs grab the particular Human in front of them and fling themselves to the ground, shielding the two Humans with their bodies. Being up front, I suffered the brunt of the blasts.

Repeating myself, I could be dead. If so, then how was the Demon before me?

He, too, had born an abundance of trauma from the carrier's barrage. His armor wore the signs of being profoundly burnt, and his visor, shattered. Other scrapes and marks took away the dark green tone of the armor; fire had singed away the paint of his armor and converted it gray.

He returned the review manner. I jumped at the opportunity when I made the inference that if the Demon's damage was visible here, so was my own. I looked myself over and discovered I was unimpaired. My helmet was missing, however, and there was purple blood leaking down the back of my cranium—a reliable verification that force was used to pressure me into a slumber.

The main factuality, which I felt ease in, was that the blasts hadn't killed me. An added fact that I found daunting was that I was in a white purgatory along with the Demon—one rival, one realm.

The third most attention-grabbing subject was the lack dearth of Skae 'Kuzomee. Thinking about him originated the concept that perhaps I could speak fitly here. A judgemental mind would be able to accumulate that a test to my fourth concern was imminent.

I decided to begin: "Where are we?" I asked the Demon. Doubtful, I was, that he knew, but with the Gravemind swimming in his mind, one could not be too sure.

"I don't know," the Demon replied. I was surprised he was so calm as his voice was unusually toneless and emotionless. It was as if he was reciting what a character was saying from a composed story, not having the propriety to mix any emotion in it—my uncle used to do such when he told stories. With the Demon, I found it disturbing; he sounded like a_ real_ metaphysical being—he was, to an extent. The factor was notwithstanding the translator near my hearing laminae. Unlike Human translators, Covenant filters the words into Sangheili alternately of having another voice solely. So, what I heard from the Demon was his exact tone, pitch, frequency . . . I didn't like what I was hearing.

Pulled by an urge, I snapped my head to the right. The Demon did the same_ as_ I did; in conjunction with me. The attraction of our sight was a distant, fading figure whose features were unidentifiable.

Once more with union, the Demon and I started towards the form. We moved slow, balancing our velocity with each other. Was he keeping pace deliberately, or was coincidence at play? Regarding naught, the Demon continued, and I—with no alternative—kept in pace.

As we neared the figure whose features still remained a mystery, it faded into thin air. We both stopped and turned at an urging, finding the form back where we started. Again, we moved towards it in concert. Again, we kept pace—even when we both sped up. Now the Demon was taking a keen interest.

"What are you playing at?" He asked as we both marched forward; we moved with a calm intent.

"I am just as confused as you are," I assured him. To make an example, I halted. The Demon continued for a few mere of moments before stopping and twisting back to face me, realizing that I wasn't in step with him.

Gratified, I began my pace again as the Demon inclined his head back around and renewed his course to the dark mass._ Dark?_ That's right, it was dark, now. It was no longer fading in and out of the white background, but was toning to a dark shade—almost black. As we got closer, it_ became_ black.

In shape, the figure resembled a Human. It was too diminutive to be a Demon, though, and didn't have any armor or equipment—not a warrior. The figure actually had no fabrics or shell at all—it was undividedly black, but close-to-all of its features were present.

Human's were unquestionably not worms as depicted—worms didn't have_ worms._ Humans were mammals, as was proven evident by Covenant researchers—a fact deemed valid, but hardly acknowledged. In the Covenant, anything could be worms if the High Council labeled such and such.

The figure was sequentially male.

"Friend of yours?" I questioned the Demon as we both came to a standstill in front of it, probing it from foot to skull. Its eyes and mouth weren't noticeable—only its nose and facial structure was. Such a time was this; a white world with a dark tenant.

"No," the Demon responded in his new-found tone that seemed to be striving to rival Qrs's. The Demon looked around the white world as he added, "I don't know what any of this is. I've been here before . . . But there was more a feeling that I was in my mind than . . . I don't know what this feeling is."

I could feel it as well. A hollow sensation that felt like death . . . I didn't like it, so I wanted it to stop. Never had I felt something so dark and cold; perhaps this_ was_ death. If so, I seriously lacked any life-threatening wounds—a scratch on the back of the head wasn't cogent. The Demon may have fallen to the class as a possible fatality, but my earlier estimation didn't institute such a conclusion. If he was dead, then why was he_ here?_

So many questions, too few answers.

"You've been here before?" I grabbed him back on an inconsistency of his. "I thought you didn't know what this place was."

He turned to meet me, his broken visor shooting chills through me—faceless one. "I would commend you for finding a flaw in my statement if I didn't find it feasible that you are just trying to find a way to make me look retarded."

I was about to counter his argument, but he was faster, and continued—albeit, back on the installed route: "And for your information, Sangheili, in Human culture, Humans can frequent places without knowing exactly what the locale is."

"I never conceived you to be a fool," I quietly replied but stressing my words. "You killed that Flood on the cliff-face using tactics rare among combatants. You're also strong-willed; not many can hold the line against the Flood . . . You have done_ more_ than utterly 'hold the line'."

Curious, the Demon leaned his head; I noticed the clenching of his hands which spoke levels of uncertainty. "You're sucking up," the Demon erroneously noted, "which is odd for someone as prideful as you."

"Exactly!" I said. "I'm prideful; I would_ not_ seep to the levels of pleading to a Human. What do I_ have_ to plead for? Forgiveness? I would not try the vain."

"And if it wasn't vain?" The Demon demanded.

I vented some hot air through my nostrils—a variant of a sigh. "I would apologize. I wouldn't beg; if you desired me to beg, then you're effectively not actually going to accept my apology. But if it were asked of me, I would sincerely, genuinely ask for forgiveness for my sins."

The Demon wasn't convinced—his arms' twitching said as much. He was agitated and unsettled. "It wouldn't be 'genuine' or 'true'," the Demon said; despite his tone, despite being upset, was as bland as it was when he first spoke—too bland. "You would just play your best facade. And don't use your honor as a subterfuge—honor has been vacant in a lot of your recent actions, and I doubt one-eighties are your thing."

"I was a different person," I established a matter; I ensured that my voice was soft and calm less I provoked the Demon. "Maybe it is comparable to what happened to you with your alternative personality. It's more than plausible—certainly—that it was a build up of anger. It's taboo to weep . . . I've broken that law a few times now, and I'm pleased so. I admit with a full conscious that I committed atrocities to your sibling's crew . . . And I would take them all back given the immediate opportunity."

The Human seemed to relax; he unclenched his hands and reposed his shoulders. A good step on the right path. "Do you regret killing Sheila?" He asked.

His friend—the female SPARTAN I killed before taking captive the Human scientist. "I regret killing all Humans," I told him. "_Especially_ her. Though, I confess, I only regret killing her over the repercussions her death at my hands bought—nothing personal at all. I also lament killing her because she was Human—a race only defending themselves against a fanatic Empire that declared war on them through lies and deceit."

I snorted another release of hot air before resuming: "My regret for the genocide I walked with against Humanity goes beyond just waste." I raised my sight to be undeviatingly at the Demon. "The Forerunners had a plan—a plan long forgotten. Only interpretations of their plans remain . . . I have my own interpretation. The Forerunners knew Humanity couldn't stand alone as guardians of the galaxy."

"What-"

I put my hand up to halt the Demon; I was yet to finish, and he had to hear all I had to say. "Humanity isn't worthy of obtaining the label of guardians. That's not to say Humanity will never be able to hold the responsibilities left by the Forerunners. They made no mistake. You were meant to be guided. Left to your convictions, your race is still at war with itself even when an external threat risks everything you hold dear in your heart. The Forerunners must have known Humanity would need a lot more support than what they left behind . . . Surely."

I released another hot steam of air before sucking in another breath. The words I would soon speak hurt my pride, but I would always tell the truth for now on out. "That Humanity was_ meant_ to guard was also to return the favor . . . I felt a chemistry when fighting adjacent Humans this past mere of a segment. When I killed your comrade, Sheila, I tried talking to her cadaver; I wanted to understand why she fought me without honor . . . I secretly was attempting to comfort myself; killing her felt wrong then—and I now know why."

I took another breath after releasing the one I took a moment ago. I then released the breath, the words flowing with the air. "Humans and Sangheili were meant to fight alongside each other. Humans were meant to be our leaders. It's not like that_ now_; Humanity is modernly a terrible choice for leaders as you're too immature . . . But I would heartily follow you; you've proven yourself the pinnacle of Human supremeness."

The Demon shook his head in a motion as if telling me no. "I'm the worst possible representative for Humanity," he said. "I've done a lot of severe things . . . Unlike you, I don't regret these actions . . . I feel good about remembering the people I have harmed with my doings . . . Still, people will look up at me as an icon. I don't want to be held in esteem. I don't crave to be in that environment . . . I'm a warrior—but not a warrior answering the call of duty or fighting for a cause . . . All that matters to me is my sister . . ." The Demon hesitated. "All that matters to me is my sister and brother SPARTANs."

"You . . ." I halted; there was a monolith of attention in his words, but it wasn't a beacon for my attracting. It was for himself. I prospered to try and garner his standing: "I killed one of your sister SPARTANs. Now, I ask for your forgiveness. But—" I took a step forward. "—be forewarned that if you let emotions delude you as I had me, you're going to be the cause of irony neither of us wants to be subjected to."

"Unlike you," the Demon said, "I'm already insane. Going more insane is best avoidable." He studied me—I could almost see his brows lower in fixation through his visor. "I broke my promise to you—to keep business before pleasure."

I puffed in amusement. "And_ I_ broke my promise to the Covenant—an oath I would follow in accordance with my station and without exception. An oath I took on the blood of my father and the blood of my sons; I swore to uphold the Covenant until my dying breath."

The Demon nodded for me to continue, seeing that I still had a great deal to say. "We_ all_ break promises when a tidal calls for change. I was out of line . . . So were you, but that's understandable . . ." I lowered my eyes in sadness more than shame. "I trusted you . . . I was overcoming the fanatical doctrine that you and your race were naught but insects worthy of no sympathy. The mentality was subsiding, and I felt betrayed."

I took another deep breath before letting it flow with my words: "We_ both_ acted out of phase, but you are only Human—" I placed a hand on my chest, signaling myself. "—and I am only Sangheili. We are, neither of us, perfect. I embrace this mortal outgrowth. I would never presume to give you lecturing words, but if there was ever a period of time where you would heed me but only_ once_, let it be this time. Embrace your Humanity as I have embraced myself all the same."

The Human cocked his head; he was genuinely astonished. "When did you became so smart?"

I was wondering just as much. The words I spoke were distinct to me; they were something Vale would say. But I remembered instances that denied my former thought—this_ was_ me. Before being arrested for failing to kill the Master Chief, I was level-headed, intelligence, respectful of Humans. That all changed when I tasted the rim of the path; I had to change my mindset to one of obligation and total religious dominance.

"A side of me I locked away is arising through the surface of my mind," I replied to the Demon, tilting my head as I apprehended a certain irony. "A correspondence, no? It's dangerous to compare each other, but if you would put aside any resentment you had, you would realize that we are not so different."

"One similarity I hope we don't share is our evaluation of this world," the Demon said. "I have no idea how we can return to reality. Tell me you do."

I shook my head. "I have not an idea of how I_ am_ here. I believe I entered a forced slumber-"

"I just lost consciousness," the Demon said, "no reason. The Gravemind's voice is also absent from my mind . . . I don't like that."

There was the sound of breeze whirling—like leaves being blown in the wind. The Demon's view switched to my side, and I snapped around, back-stepping a few feet before unwinding—it was only Skae 'Kuzomee. Why did he appear_ now?_

'Kuzomee looked at me before turning to look at the Demon- wait! The Demon saw him?! What was happening?!_ What_ was this world? And where was the black figure? It had vanished! My mind just fell to the numbers of many more questions begging for answers that I didn't have. I hope 'Kuzomee might enlighten me.

"It was just a hunch," 'Kuzomee vaguely said—why was mystery such a prime element of this world? "A hunch proved correct."

"Speak sense," I said, grinding my mandibles in exasperation.

"There's no time," 'Kuzomee me said as he turned to the Demon. "Both of you, go to the engineering room—the Hybrid is already making haste, but will await for you upon arrival, though he won't wait long. If you want to see the real power behind your 'karma', I advise you heed my warning and make speed."

Before I could speak further—before any of us could speak further—my vision went as white as the world. All I could see was white; all I could think was white; all I_ knew_ was white. Then, my eyes cracked open to black . . . A ceiling.

I sat up—not a smart move since my back was at the risk of being damaged. I likewise didn't feel anything in the white world, so the extent of my internal injuries was unknown to me.

Thankfully, my head existed as the only point of pain. I was intact, and I took this fact with stride, and examined the corridor. The entire passageway had fallen in from the barrage; the corridor resembled more of a wreckage like the rest of the ship than its original form. A significant breach on the left of the passageway went horizontally across the entire corridor—it was also large, and rubble that once served as the wall of the hallway now littered the ground.

I got to a standing posture, grabbed and put on my helmet that rested by my side, and looked behind me. There was no pain in my legs or back, so I was safe to move around. Qrs, Krnat, and the two Humans no longer were with me. They probably saw, through the breach in the corridor, what I saw—the carrier on a direct collision course with the vessel_ I_ had the unfortunate grace of being present on—and made the smart decision to abandon me rather than await me waking up.

I further examined the carrier's decline. It was moving slow; its propulsive systems still operating which slowed its descent. Additionally, the planet's gravity could also be at play—the atmosphere had to be safe, though, as the Humans showed no symptoms to a contrast in breathing when I inspected them. The gravity presumably had no effect on the ship's depths due to the emergency gravity generators that I knew the vessel had. Oxygen generators may have been also present as we still breathed safely when the ship's power died while we were still in space. How the systems survived after the carrier's volley was beyond me.

'Kuzomee told me to move to the engineering section of the ship. Too bad it was a district I held no record of; I received entrustment with a rather difficult task.

But then, turning, I was awarded a wash of relief as Skae 'Kuzomee was standing behind me, arms crossed and staring at me in puzzlement. "Why are you idle?" He asked.

"I don't know where the engineering compartment is," I said truthfully.

'Kuzomee rolled his eyes in indignation at himself over me. "Continue ahead," he said, breaking into a sprint as I spun and did, enduring up with my pace.

"Where has this new-found knowledge come from? How do you know where the engineering room is?" I asked. "Last I heard by your mandibles, you only knew what you clutched when you died save a few additional facts added by . . . a_ force_?"

"I was recently told all I needed to be told to help with your survival," he answered.

"Survival?" I inquired, letting my tone be tampered with by a more intrigued side of me. "How will the engineering section preserve us?"

"One thing at a time." 'Kuzomee pointed to the left at a junction; his arm appearing out of the side of my vision and guiding me. He added, "The carrier's a secondary priority. Right now, the fusion reactors of this vessel are going critical and will soon detonate—that is our objective."

"How can we stop something already set in motion?" I asked as I followed his directions around another turn; I was now aware of the rumbling of the ship.

"You cannot," 'Kuzomee answered. "This is a reward from something that can. Something who's aware that the Flood are indeed unethical, and patience is all that was required."

Besides my confusion, I had an inkling of understanding of 'Kuzomee's words. What was T'Rakas_ truly_ capable of in his proclaimed power?

The heat of my surroundings increased until it became near intolerable when I arrived at the intersection with a larger corridor leading somewhere, a sign saying, "Engineering" next to the entry of the corridor.

I continued against the still-increasing heat—the cooling systems of my armor needed the armor to be fully adorned to function correctly, and I lacked the armor for my arms. Such a small lacking had such an impacting devastation; my body felt like it was on fire.

My course was essential . . . I had a deep voice coaxing me on. I_ needed_ to see where this was going; there was little alternative. The Human ship was in danger of being extinguished from the plain of reality . . ._ Vale's_ body was in the same crisis.

Vale Nar 'Sarasee was a marvel of a Sangheili. I held him in my arms as he died not a unit ago. It was plain in the field of certainty that he would lead the Sangheili from the Covenant into a new dawn. Now he was dead, and no other had the potential he had. At least his death could serve as a martyr which meant that the survival of his body was dominant in my goals; Sangheili funeral rituals were rare but significantly a major importance to the populace.

I couldn't think of him now. His face . . . The way it was contorted in pain and sadness. He didn't want to die—who would ever want to die? He wanted to live on for he had so much more to live for; so much more to fight for in life. Vale knew that his death would be the end of so much which stood as positive, and he knew that his time was yet to end.

I would ensure his legacy lived on; even in death, he would continue in his inspiration; he would be met with honor in death, and be at ease in the eternal darkness.

The heat hit its zenith as I entered the engineering room. It was large and cubic in shape with a lengthy wall separating the room into two compartments that were accessible via several small corridors that ran through the dividing wall. Additionally, there were more passages that led through the walls of the room and exited on the balconies near the panels controlling the exhaust couplings.

Vents were alight with fire and explosions were ever present. Electrical surges from broken cables and water from the ship's intact life-support systems created pools of water on fire with energy that would be a dense effort to ford.

Around the room's walls and ceiling—a ceiling that rose high—were ruptures and breaches with daylight shining brightly through and illuminating shadows all across the room that flickered as fire cast light on the umbrae.

The ground and inner formations that served as the ship's engines all suffered profoundly and were all exposed to the brutal element of fire. Vents were blown apart from the plasma fire that made it through, and fires from the exhaust vents themselves were visible which sang news of devastation to me.

Dodging an explosion erupting near me, I carefully approached the tall, alien figure that was standing below an exhaust coupling.

My hearing membranes caught the sounds of the Demon's clanging armor and stomping boots, and I spun around as he came rushing past me. Noticing that I wasn't following, the Demon twirled around and set his sight on me.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>

* * *

><p>I examined Ultra Thel 'Lodam with hard eyes; he looked no different than how he looked in the white world. His armor held dents from being thrown around by the explosions of the carrier's barrage, and purple blood seeped down his shoulder blades. A stern head injury, to be sure, but nothing critical due to his functionality and my thorough assessment.<p>

I waved for him to hurry up before revolving back around and rushing to meet T'Rakas, who stood inferior to an exhaust coupling that was on fire. The whole room would soon blow apart with the rest of the ship following suite. The explosion would be so massive that the carrier would suffer from evaporation—one last goodbye kiss from the_ Kryptonite_. Humans always went out with a bang.

"You called?" I asked the Hybrid—or more the Gravemind. Abnormally enough, the Gravemind hadn't spoken through my mind since his warning of the impending barrage from the carrier. I was unnerved—I resented the creature, but that worked both ways. I relied on the Gravemind.

"So anxious are you to see the vista of not my, but my progenitor's, power?" T'Rakas—the Gravemind; it was his lexicon—asked. The diversion of the current issue—the imminent destruction of the ship—bothered me, but I would play along. 'Lodam, perhaps not.

The Elite stopped by my side; he was huffing out breaths of labor. He ran a long way, and his armor was without any cooling systems—this was his literal hell before hell. The Elite Minor was also by his side. I had no idea where the Minor came from; it was a confusing aspect of the present. It wasn't one of the Diverted; all boarded a Pelican with the other survivors from the barracks—none of the ex-Covenant soldiers beside the Grunt we took captive were lacking. All the others—even the Iguana—were alive. Some wounded. But all alive.

"Can we pass on the talking and get to work?" I asked impatiently.

"Th-this he-heat . . . will . . . k-kill . . . ill me . . ." 'Lodam complained—odd. He was stuttering or something akin—a fact the Gravemind didn't tell me. It wasn't relevant at the instant. Where was the Gravemind?

T'Rakas turned to face me. "Behold, the power I once wielded—the power of the Precursors." T'Rakas turned his attention to the exhaust coupling he was beneath and raised his hand. I would call him out for being insane had he not referred to the Precursors. Could it be that T'Rakas somehow retained the power that the obscure Precursors had? If all I heard about them was authentic, then a lot of what had transpired the past hour was probably avoidable.

I would scrutinize before letting myself become incensed by what-ifs.

His eyes clenched shut, and his facial muscles firm as if he were concentrating on solving the riddle of the constellation, T'Rakas curled his claws which sent ripples through the air near the exhaust coupling.

Now, this was interesting. 'Lodam thought the same when he cursed a Sangheili slang word at the sight of ripples in the air going towards the inflamed exhaust coupling. With one single crunch of his fist, the fires and explosions around the coupling vent died out. An idiot would say magic—I saw the manipulation of gravity itself. Gravitation alteration was something that the Covenant were adept at—even the Forerunners could harvest gravity to fight the elements as seen here. But without a device or mechanism to be the source of the administration, there was no way . . . The Hybrid was able to manipulate gravity to beat the elements with his bare claws.

Coupling after coupling, vent after vent, explosion after explosion; the Hybrid turned to each countdown to our destruction and destroyed it. In under two minutes, the engineering room went from a burning time-bomb to a methodical state. It was still an unstable capacity, but the fusion reactors detonating was no longer of worry. Still, the UNSC_ Kryptonite_ would never fly again.

'Lodam was dumbstruck: ". . . H-h-how?"

"Time is still no ally, Sangheili," T'Rakas said. "Come, be further in reverence of what merely_ I_ am proficient of." It was the Gravemind speaking, but his words were different; calling 'Lodam a Sangheili was queer when he preferred to use their Latin classification.

My thoughts and contradiction reduction was put to an end when both me and 'Lodam began drifting in the air. T'Rakas had his arms extended, his hands aiming at us and his claws guiding the gravity beneath us.

Before I could gain an adequate substance of comprehension, me and 'Lodam were slung up through one of the numerous violations in the massive room's ceiling—caused by the plasma barrage from the carrier. We were in the air for a few seconds before slamming down onto the top of the_ Kryptonite_.

I kicked-up to my feet and turned my perception instantaneously to the massive carrier that was dawning ever closer. In the distant there were Pelicans from the_ Kryptonite_ that a few survivors near the hanger bays managed to reach. One was from the port midship hanger bay and had—all onboard and safe—the Diverted, David Larson. ODSTs Jeff Woods, Albert Freud, Tom McAlliser Tyler Hauver—Fireteam Oxford and Hauver were the only ODSTs present at the barracks. Toless Morgan and Cylus Black—they and the Elite Stealth Operatives made it to the hanger bay and escaped in the single surviving Pelican in the port midship hanger bay with everyone else. I randomly went unconscious not long after the four arrived at the hanger bay without 'Lodam—I was about to ask about 'Lodam when I went unconscious. Doctors Hallas Day and Campbell Joyce were also present. There were also pilots William Gonzalez, Miriam Tolva, Dallas Warden, and Tuscany Clad. Marines Lachlan Student, Wade Tulnai, Joela Ferrara, Tom Howards, Brian Davis, Ned Rasel and Zackery Pastone where the only Marines to have survived the barracks.

I felt somewhat appalled that so far all the personnel at the barracks that I knew personally had survived. The Marines other than Harvad from Fireteam Wreckage—a Fireteam I worked with—were all dead, and it weighed devastatingly on me. I didn't know them on a friendly level—I more "hung out" with the more amiable members of Fireteam Night and Fireteam Oxford.

I didn't know the status of Lynda Keyes or Dean White. Courtney was my primary concern, however. I longed for the Gravemind's aid.

I would focus on who survived what later. The carrier was my principal concern, and T'Rakas was using gravity to fly up behind me, 'Lodam, and the Elite Minor that seemed to just appear out of thin air.

The urge to know about the other survivors was one of the stronger calls I had ever had to endure, but I was a SPARTAN first and foremost—nothing would change that.

T'Rakas dropped from the air behind us, landing hard on the ground with a_ thump_. With a firm conviction in his stride, he walked by us and stopped; he was facing the carrier that was minutes away from colliding with the_ Kryptonite_. It would be a slow, excruciating process. Hopefully, avoidance would be possible—it just required waiting for T'Rakas, who apparently had it all figured out.

At that moment, I saw a puzzle. Pieces were coming together—one piece was what I was currently observing.

To further highlight his celestial powers, T'Rakas began to hover above the ground—or top of the ship, either all suited—and stretched his arms out towards the carrier.

The shadow of the carrier loomed over the entire wreckage of what could resemble a wreckage given the damage and athwart the nearby plains and borders of an alien jungle made up of palms rather than pines. Impressive . . .

An ear-trembling sound was sifted through my helmet's malfunctioning sound reception systems as the carrier slowly, steadily came to a halt—it now laid suspended in the sky, a gravitation field surrounding it. I pondered if even a single Forerunner had the power in their combat skin to venture even in such a feat.

Let alone a primitively armored alien with no signs of advanced accretions or genetic alteration—but eyes were a barrier, and his armor could hide the solution. But who would've put him under the knife?

There was a deeper, scarier answer to all these questions: Precursors. Could the Gravemind be playing a game? No. This theorization was the only answer . . . And I didn't like it.

With his right hand, T'Rakas used gravity to have the massive carrier hang over us. With his left, he was destroying stray Covenant Phantoms and Banshees that sat as a threat to the departed Pelicans and Falcons; he formed gravitation waves of force to knock the atmospheric craft away like swatting flies. He further used gravity to create a field around the vehicles—like he did with the carrier—and crushed them with a clench of his left fist.

I wanted what the Hybrid had.

"This is the command of Gods—do you understand?" T'Rakas asked. "My forefathers had jurisdiction exceeding measure; this is just a glitter of their broad inherent."

"And, yet, the Forerunners beat them into extinction," I remarked blandly.

T'Rakas rattled his two spines protruding from his perception and detecting lamina strip—from what I judged, it was a sign of amusement from the Hybrids. "My forefathers marveled the intensity of the fury that belonged to yours. We didn't persist back in the allowance for the Forerunners to recapitulate with their example of violation. They were our children, and they murdered their father; bit the feeding hand. We didn't retaliate to see the complete scope of their destruction. Retribution comes with patience—a dish best served cold."

"Yo-yo . . . you rep-replied . . . with the-the . . . Flo-Flo . . . Flood," 'Lodam correctly concluded.

"Yes," T'Rakas nodded, not taking his attention away from the carrier suspended less than a hundred meters overhead us. "Though, it was unscrupulous. Before-Mentioned is the rationale behind 'karma'."

The Hybrid grasped his right clawed hand into a fist and turned the massive beast of a ship into dust that showered over the wreckage; the distant jungles and savannas; the nearby mountains. The red palms became a shade of gray along with the alien foliage resting beneath the canopies. The mountain's black peaks now shared their bleakness with the whole mountain. The ranges and flats now looked like a no-men's-land from a planet under siege by the Covenant—an ash-field.

The entire ground under us, the complete top of the_ ship_ now fell blanketed in dust and soot. So was I, 'Lodam and T'Rakas—not the Elite Minor, who the dust inexplicably just fell through; like he was transparent. So he was an apparition—could 'Lodam see him? The Minor was closer to the Ultra than he was me; he would be near me if I were the root of his existence.

'Lodam was in awe. I wasn't; zip came as a surprise to me as of a while ago.

T'Rakas ended his suspension and fell back down onto the ground before looping around to face us. His face was vacuous—it was easy to distinguish with the Hybrid's reptilian face—as he crossed his arms.

"And you didn't use that before," I commented, lowering my hand to my holstered M6D.

"If you neglected to stand beside the Sangheili you now do, there would exist scarce necessary to conserve you," T'Rakas refined.

"That-that . . . do-do-does . . . no-not ma-ke . . . se-sen-sense!" 'Lodam protested; his tone was stutter-riddled but coherent. He was also pissed. But, then, so was I.

"I know," T'Rakas nodded. "One day, you'll understand."

"But not today," I concluded. "Cliche. I get the feeling you like the suspension stories bring."

T'Rakas nodded. "More than thee will ever know."

"Yo-yo a-are . . . le-lev-leave . . . leaving," 'Lodam made a bold assumption—it was correct; I established the Hybrid's motives a scant second earlier.

T'Rakas nodded, his eyes hard with both sorrow and assurance. "Yes. But we'll meet again in the future—I'm certain." T'Rakas was now talking—not the Gravemind. "And when we meet again, things will be different."

To add salt to the injury—and not in a disinfectant way—the Hybrid turned from us and raised his right hand. A meter in front of him, a slipspace portal his size opened. He now had authority over dimensions accompanying with gravity. I saw past this; T'Rakas didn't possess this power, he was being fed it from an invisible source.

Neither I nor 'Lodam stopped the Hybrid as he strolled through the crackling sphere of blue and black energy. The slipspace portal sealed—was sucked in on itself—as soon as the Hybrid's feline-like tail vanished through it.

The closing of the portal sent a minor shockwave across the top of the_ Kryptonite_. 'Lodam was sent stumbling with the dust of the carrier blowing with him, but I kept my balance; the magnetic strips on the bottom of my armored boots made sure my balance never died. I didn't need to brush the dust from my armor, at least.

T'Rakas had just disappeared from existence; he had just walked through a Slipspace portal that could've led to anywhere in the universe. Conflicting the utmost was the very power he had to be able to tear a hole in normal space to slipspace—access to slipspace always required a conduit. T'Rakas had none—he had access to that domain at will with the application of solely his claws.

He also left me with further questions than answers—'Lodam felt the same. We only learned that the Hybrid had a stronger connection to the Precursors than formerly let on, and could somehow employ transsentient techniques.

Questions that would presumably never fall out of the"needing answer field". I would produce it to Fleighted Fire's attention later; more urgent affairs were presently demanding addressing.

The Covenant separatists were all wiped out; the CSO-Class Supercarrier was nothing but dust and echoes, and all hostile aerial craft were also either crushed or knocked away like annoying bugs with the use of gravity. The Pelicans and Falcons were all safe, and the_ Kryptonite's_ fusion reactors were no longer at risk of detonating.

"Wha-what?" 'Lodam asked about what just happened. He wasn't asking me, but I

would answer, even when I had no idea.

"No idea," I replied before he could continue. I found his stutter to be annoying, but beyond my control. He would require one of his Sangheili "Mind-Tenders" to_ tend_ to his mind. My judgment was that witnessing Vale Nar 'Sarasee's death hit him hard. Why wouldn't it? When the Gravemind told me, I felt moderately taken aback as well. The Elite would have been an invaluable Human collaborator.

Thinking of the Gravemind, where was he?

_(Ever present. Touched, I retain the aforementioned emotion that you felt insecure without me; a time it was that I could not susurrate in your ear. This time has passed, and I am free to roam your mind again.)_ Why was it a problem? Why did the Gravemind stay silent when T'Rakas was talking?_ (Something not yet ready for your ears. You'll know when the time circulates modern circumstance.)_ That was familiar to the Hybrid's words; he was holding off information for some end or another. Usually, the Gravemind would've done it for the sadistic side—not now. He was doing this for other reasons . . .

The Gravemind_ was_ the vicious type. It got worst when he recently began appropriating the figure in my head as a means of fear against me. This horror began a few days ago, after he returned to his previous brutal state from his more evolved one; the preferable one.

Each night since a couple of days ago, when the Gravemind retreated to being an asshole, he had the figure attack me in horrific nightmares that I shared with Courtney once, two days ago. The figure was also present during the day and assailed me on four occasions—one of which when I was in the mess hall. It was lucky that there were no casualties.

Up until the later part of the battle in the hanger, the figure was always around me; the figure was always watching me combat the Covenant extremists. I thought the Gravemind was only making the figure more violent and close as a means for entertainment; the reality was far more selfless. The Gravemind was_ helping_ me.

After eliminating the Stealth Elite; after coming to terms with what I had done all those years ago, the figure disappeared. The figure_ was_ my personal demon. It was the side of me I repelled, but it vanished. It no longer shadowed over me because I embraced it.

Pro: Courtney would no longer suffer harm from my mind's battles—the personalities, the figure. Cons: I had diagnosed myself with multiple social and psychological disorders. I had Dissociative Identity Disorder and copious other issues. Not all of these had any relation to my childhood trauma alone. Suddenly, I just _went_ insane and killed that family who set a spark that was dormant courtesy of 098 for decades until_ I_ retook control . . . And that spark was set alight, and gradually became hotter and hotter . . .

Slaying the Stealth Elite was the denouement; I came to discern something I dismissed for so long: It was me_ not_ 098 that killed the family. 098 and the other alters weren't created to save me from my rejection to readjust to the SPARTAN-II Program—they were constructed to protect my subconscious from my self-caused mania.

Was I insane?_ Could_ I be labeled insane? I had the symptoms, but I was neverthel_ess me_. I still cared for Courtney—she was my twin sister, so I cared for her with the omission of any limit. I still retained a lot of my pre-merging traits, but I was still a different person than the Red I was an hour ago . . . I felt different knowing that I murdered innocent people and enjoyed it. It cast a dark obscuration over my mind, and my mentality changed drastically.

Example: I relished in taking the lives of the Covenant extremists. Why? Don't know. I just, thoroughly and naturally enjoyed killing them . . . Humans were a taste long since banished . . . But remnant connections prevailed. A little girl I killed in the pet store was one of my alters . . . Fun times seemed to cover a path leading to the future.

I despised and cherished this new standpoint on life I had. Those I killed were inclined to take my life—they wouldn't show me quarter if I asked for it—besides the Marines I killed during the mutiny, but I couldn't combine a parallel.

If you're going to kill somebody, be prepared to die in return. I went overboard with the Elite Stealth; I slit his esophagus when there was no need to other than to establish dominance. Still, I was a Demon to them, so I would indulge their views . . . I was a Demon for Humans as well—certain Humans; Insurgents feared the mythical SPARTANs. I wanted to obtain 098's anterior feelings; I wanted to know what it was like to kill a Human who had the intention of killing you, but, opposed to the mutineers, hated your gut. I wanted to experiment.

_(This new, raw and sophisticated precipitation is illuminating! The final straws should have been pulled long ago! I never thought . . . 'Lodam?) _

I turned to Thel 'Lodam, who was still trying to decipher the clues left by T'Rakas.

Sheila was a substitute for Courtney. I loved her like a sister until I lost her . . . To clarify, she was taken from me earlier than when she died. I lost her when 098 was created and took command . . . But I still, to this day, taste the lingering agony surrounding her death.

But 'Lodam? Was I to hate him everlastingly? Of course not! Hate was a dangerous emotion, and I saw its effects; 'Lodam went berserk. I wouldn't follow the example he set.

I was a soldier; a warrior . . . No. I was a killer._ No one_ would steal me from that pleasure. Especially not_ her_.

"Sm-smart," 'Lodam said. I turned to see what he meant and saw him peering over the rim of the rupture in the engineering room's roof that T'Rakas flung us through earlier. The Elite Minor was still by his side; it didn't seem to leave him. The Ultra was referencing the inconvenience of T'Rakas's abandonment of us; he was being sarcastic. "The-the-the . . . drops's-s -lo-long-long." 'Lodam backed away from the edge and swiveled to gaze at me.

I shrugged, not caring and already knowing the solution. "Our shields will take the brunt of the drop."

"No-no-no-no . . . No . . ." 'Lodam grunted in irritation. His mandibles were out of sync with his words, and he was speaking too fast. Ignoring the flaw oblivious to him, the Ultra tried again: "Fall-fall . . . is-is-is . . . to-to . . . too-"

"Stop," I spoke as I put my hand up to halt him. "You're showing symptoms I'm not experienced on, but know enough to possibly relieve you."

'Lodam nodded for me to continue.

"Usually, all sentient life forms with a crafted language speaks without thinking; the words and movement of their jaw come naturally. You're going to have to renovate your speech pattern." I was annoyed that I had to be the Sangheili's therapist, and there were other undertakings that required my attention, but this wouldn't take long, and it could prove advantageous for the future.

"First," I continued, "slow your speaking down and adopt a deep breath before speaking. Let your words flow with your exhale slowly, and slow your speech down."

"Secondly," I added, "think of what you're going to say before saying it; think of the sentence structure and how you will pronounce the words and how you will move your mandibles in unison with the phrase. You'll speak a lot slower and be a burden in a combat scenario, but you'll be able to talk with more ease."

I gestured for him try, and he tried: ". . . The . . . fall. . . is to-too . . . deep . . . I . . . do-don't . . . trust . . . shield . . . strength . . ." It was disordered, slow and required me to put so and so together, but it was doable and comprehensible and an immense improvement.

_(The Prowler of the crow is mapped to regain you. Re-entering this vessel is not essential. As a reward, I will inform you that your sister is safe and on that Prowler. Further, those you trouble about all yet persist in occurrence. Do not hypothesize why those you care for or manifest inadequate compassion for are alive at the hand of a greater power—location demonstrates the friction of all.) _

"We won't need to. An ONI Prowler's on a pick-up trajectory. The Gravemind told me, so don't ask," I explained.

'Lodam nodded, content with my answer—a positive basis considering I didn't want to be the one to disclose the news of the "time paradox" to him.

As he stopped nodding—albeit, it was only a small round of nods—and his eyes locked their sight onto something behind me. I already knew what it was—the space-ripping sound blended with an explosion of atoms was impossible to overlook.

I turned and saw a colossal slipspace portal resting high in the firmament, on the border of the atmosphere. A midnight black sphere with a blue border was expanding it; the black was the center of the portal.

And it was from that black that the prow of a titanic ship emerged through the portal.

The sound of the UNSC_ Infinity_ zooming through the portal echoed across the plains, mountains, hills and forests; trees shook, and an avalanche was occurring on a distant snow-peaked mountain.

Once the gigantic ship was clear of the portal, it hissed close.

Humanity had come incomparably the few years since the war concluded.

My attention went to my COMM when it began pinging; I was being hailed onto an open channel. Immediately, I hooked up to it—'Lodam did the same as he keyed the communication's component on the side of his helmet.

"This is Captain Andrew Del Rio of the UNSC_ Infinity_ hailing any and all survivors of the UNSC_ Kryptonite_. Unit Blackbird, sound off."

"O'Reilly here, Captain," A young, cheerful voice responded. "Captain Courtney Jsarez is secure. We're currently moving in to retrieve Sierra-098."

"Sierra-098," The Captain said, "sound off immediately."

098 took control. "Sir! SPARTAN Petty Officer Second Class Red-098 reporting for duty. Status—green. Require immediate mechanical repair for requisitioned MJONIR Mark IV armor."

A sigh was all that replied for a moment before the Captain answered. "Petty Officer, you better have a damn good reason why you're only showing up on radar_ now!_"

My first impressions of Captain Del Rio weren't positive; I already hated the Captain's guts.

"Captain," Courtney inserted; the Prowler she was on de-cloaked behind me and 'Lodam and was decreasing towards us. "I would appreciate it if you didn't talk to my brother like that." The tone she used had a sense of familiarity in it; she knew Del Rio.

"You're in just as much trouble, Captain Jsarez," Del Rio replied, a certain snappiness in his tone that made me want 098 to disperse and allow me to attack the bastard verbally. "You had invaluable data that could've ended this war long ago!"

". . . What?" 'Lodam broke in; his tone was both full of confusion . . . And a knowing rage.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Thel 'Lodam)<strong>

* * *

><p>". . . What?" I asked. As I was confused, I was likewise enraged with a knowing of a fragment of truth that should've been apparent.<p>

"Who's this?" The male Human Captain queried. "Fisher, is this one of these 'Diverted' you mentioned in your last transmission?"

"Yes, sir," The Human named Fisher affirmed over the channel.

"Remove him from the channel or get him to be quiet; this isn't the time," the male Captain commanded.

I hissed, "No-no . . . Te-tell . . . me!" There was something wrong . . . The male Captain's words; the way the Covenant outfitted themselves, the odd weapons being used by said warriors; the missing Monarch—was there more to this? If so, then I wouldn't wait on the orders of a moronic sounding Human Captain, who had no authorization over me.

"The Monarch's slipspace Transendor malfunctioned," the female Captain said. "And the eight days we were in slipspace was actually eight years in real space—not sixteen hours as the Monarch . . ._ Shit!_ Captain, make this a private channel,_ now!_"

It was a proclaimed "open channel"; all the Humans who survived the crash and the carrier's torrent had likely just heard what she said. But I cared not for them. I was in shock and paid no notice to the ping sound indicating my forceful removal from the channel.

I looked to the Demon. He looked to me as well but put his hand up to halt me—his expulsion from the channel hadn't followed my own. Typical Humans and their passion of the Demons . . . And trust.

Madness swayed itself over my mind._ Eight cycles_? This situation was indisputable beyond what any incongruity may claim. I previously had many questions from the Hybrid, T'Rakas, and many more had arisen due to this. What was the standing of the Humans; Covenant? Was my race still persistent in life? Why did such a massive ship exist? When did the war end—_had_ it ended? What about the Parasite?

I began pacing as the Human "Prowler" dropped over us; its ramp lowered as it softly_ clanked_ onto the top of the Human frigate

Down the ramp came the female Human Captain, two odd-looking Imps and three odder looking warriors embellished in armor an enigma to me. This system's sun glimmered light from the angles of the vividly colored armor, and I found a startling similarity to Demon armor . . ._ Eight years_.

I got in the Demon's way before he could run to embrace his sibling, and I approached Captain Jsarez with a hard secreted face of outrage and bafflement. "Wh-wh-what i-i-is t-th-th-the me-me-meaning of-of-of th-th-this?" I asked. I didn't slow my speech, but I made sure to keep what I said in check—hence my spacing being non-existent.

"I'd like to know that as well!" She snapped in return; air escaped her nostrils and made a hissing noise. "I just know what the Monarch told me, and what these two—" She motioned to the two Imps beside her. "—told me—and that isn't_ a lot!_"

I released the hot air swelling in my nostrils and pacified my muscles. She was telling the truth, and I knew because, despite my fleeting time with them, I amassed a comprehensive prediction of their expressions and tones. She was telling the truth . . .

I nodded. "We . . . sha-sh . . . all discover . . . what-at . . . happened . . . to-to-toge-gether," I said before walking past her and up the ramp, Skae 'Kuzomee still by my side. I was eager to both leave this ship, and learn more of what had followed these past eight cycles.

I walked up the ramp and into the the Prowler's bay. As soon as I entered it, I was greeted by one of the newer Demons who held a distinct, long looking gray rifle to aim at me. I assumed it was a precaution, but my eyes widened in alarm when the weapon seemed to energize up.

I clasped my energy blade with my claws, slung my arm in the air and flung it down where the two blue ionized blades hissed from the blade's hilt. I made a blunder—it looked like_ I_ was one engaging, and the larger Demon—Red Jsarez—mistook me as an antagonist.

The Demon in front of me fired his armament. It was a kinetic, high velocity based weapon that sent me flying back down the ramp despite my shields only being beaten down half measure.

I scrambled up, sending the billions of dust particles around me into the air as all of the Demons—including the older one, Red Jsarez—and the two Imps opened fire on me.

"Stop! Halt!" 'Kuzome waved for the larger Demon—who could strangely see him—to stop. But his cries fell on the basis of deaf ears. The Demon paid 'Kuzomee no regard as moved to shield his sibling while firing his pistol's explosive bullets at me.

Instead of battling, I sprinted up the ramp. The fourth Demon discharged another round from his long rifle, but I eluded the shot before landing a kick on the Demon's chest, knocking him off balance. The movement left him open for a slice that cleaved through his energy shields—_eight cycles_ indeed—and cut him in half diagonally. Red blood spattered over my armor, and I felt a disgusting taste of glee at stealing a Human's life.

Hearing thrusters, I spun just as the other three Demons sped up the ramp and slammed into me—the Jsarez Demon remained to protect his sibling. The two Imps also remained on the top of the frigate; they knew better than to try and engage me in melee

I was sent tumbling to the ground. My shield systems were blaring in alarm as they descended to ten percent of their original volume, but I spun to my back as a Demon leaped into the air and came smashing down on the ground with the support of his thrusters; the impact of hitting the ground sent bright orange sparks outward from the collision point.

Not regarding the dangerous fact of being surrounded, I managed to get to my knees, but I was kicked back by one of the Demons; the blow sent me plummeting back to the ground.

"Clearly, mere mortals are all incompetent!" The Monarch angrily said as he abruptly came flying from behind the Jsarez siblings and Imps and up the ramp, ignoring the four and charging up its radiant eye to attack the three Demons.

The three Demons' attention clumsily slipped to the Monarch, who blasted apart the shields of one of the Demons with his laser, giving me a cast to take another Demon off-guard. I stormed to my hooves and drove my sword forward at a Demon, who spun around to me at a too slow a rate. The blade shredded apart his energy shields, armor, and flesh, sending blood splashing out from his back where the tips of the two sizzling blades holed.

I booted the Demon off of my sword before rushing the final Demon. The other Demon was killed by the Monarch—my filtering systems didn't obstruct the smell of the Demon's searing flesh and armor. I never thought the Monarch to be violent or aggressive—especially to those he was sworn to protect.

The final Demon was too slow in picking between me and the Monarch, and suffered a slice to the neck as I kicked him down the ramp while it began to lift. No doubt the Monarch's doing; the associated intelligence could hack into the systems of virtually aught.

A few of the Imps and the Jsarez Demon's projectiles deflected off of my restoring shields as all of them—including Captain Jsarez, who was in cover behind her sibling—disappeared behind a seam of light that got narrower as the ramp sealed.

"Pathetic, disobedient creatures!" The Monarch hissed in his synthetic voice; never before had I seen the robotic being so furious. "They bestow_ no_ appreciation; no hint of recognition! I face a difficult stage, and_ they_ blame all their liabilities on_ me!_"

"Wh-why?" I asked, scanning the bay for any signs of Human life.

"I_ just_ explained 'why'!" The Monarch bobbed in front of me fanatically; I was ready to slice at it with my blade if his aggression reached a summit. "Humanity is far too incompetent to be the inheritors! All mortals are; the creators made a lethal error of judgment!"

I shook my head. "N-no . . . Humanity . . . h-h-has . . . strength."

"Not enough!" The Monarch countered; his booming voice sent vibrating waves through my body. "They are inconvenient and too radical; they don't obey protocol, they don't listen! They can't grasp the magnitude of their duty and squander their own power!"

The Human revolt that had recently come to pass. There were other examples as well, but all suffered the same condition of being merely rebuked. I wouldn't provoke the Monarch, though, and I'd let his case slide to an extent. "The . . . De-Demon . . . Jsarez," I protested.

The Monarch shook his mobile form like one would shake their head in a field of opposition. "Damn them each! They can all burn; they are fortunate I even let them live! Death would be exceedingly straightforward for the revelation behind my foregoing facade!" I frowned in confusion as the Monarch continued: "We go to Sanghelios—Humanity will burn; I'll_ ensure_ Humanity's condemnation!"

The remark of Sanghelios was reassuring, but I needed to stay focused: "Th-th-the o-others-"

The Monarch broke me off: "They are vital as well—your account alone won't be sufficient for Thel 'Vadam." The Monarch floated over to the exit of the bay that led into the Human ship's interior. "Come," he urged me to follow. "While the ancilla of this vessel remains active, we are not going anywhere. Control will soon be mine, but purifying this ship of the vermin Humans is non-optional."

I thought on the consequences of which path I took. Negotiations with the Humans would be futile if the Humans ambushed me and as soon as I was on the respective end of a Human weapon, I would be engaged. I needed to assist the Monarch in gaining control of the vessel and retrieve the Diverted ahead of heading to Sanghelios—the allusion of Thel 'Vadam was music to me. If Thel 'Vadam led the Sangheili, then it wasn't all possible that the Sangheili remained deceived by the Prophets.

If I rejected to help the Monarch and he didn't kill me out of its newly acquainted rage, then I had limited options to go on by in the reservoir of choice. The Monarch would still likely take the ship to Sanghelios with me trapped in it; it was better to be on his good tidings once we arrived at the homeworld. The downfall of going along was that I must kill every Human on this ship, but sacrifices were the norm in this brutal realm_._

I hurried after the Monarch, convinced that I was taking the right path. Before I reached the corridor into the interior of the ship, the Monarch sped in front of me, making me literally spring back. "Human technology remains rudimentary," the Monarch told me. "This ship is already under my administration. Be near the ramp—it's the solitary way your comrades will embark on this vessel, and your word will be the beacon for them."

"Wh-wh-what about-"

"The Humans left on this vessel?" The Monarch asked. I nodded, and he added, "All other Humans are in subdivisions and compartments non-connected oxygen-wise to this section. They will all die when I vent the oxygen. Simple."

"Is-is the-the . . . there a-any . . . avoidance?" I asked.

The Monarch shifted sharply, adjusting its position in front of me and deliberately intimidating me. "They will_ all_ die. This vengeance is long overdo, and I shan't aside it out of pity."

I nodded, unsatisfied at the unnecessary loss. Regardless, I turned and approached the docked ramp, ready to go down it as soon as it lowered. The Monarch left the bay, heading for the ship's bridge.

The example of how a situation could go from hopeful to dreadful in a matter of moments was not amusing to me—on the contrary, I was infuriated. For some purpose, I was ambushed by the Human Demons, and a misconception on the Jsarez Demon's part symbolized that conflict was unavoidable. But why did he attack so fastly?

The Gravemind may have crafted some wicked lie; the Parasite continually looked for ways to wreak havoc on the Demon's mind, and this was seemingly all the same.

Moments after the Monarch left the bay, the ramp creaked out of its holdings. Carefully, I eased my way down it. At the bottom was a Pelican dropship spun around, its bay facing the ramp—the cargo personnel of the Pelican could surely leap onto the ramp if they had the agility.

In the bay was a portion of Humans and all the brothers of the Diverted—Anve, Krnat, Freyn, Suras, Qrs, Kri, and all the Unggoy with a supplementary Ibie'shan.

" Ultra," Anve called. "What happens? The Human battle network is full of rumors of you having betrayed us! The ship you are on is being hunted as we speak!"

" 'Lodam," The Human Major, Tyler Hauver, joined in. He raised his voice so I could hear it, but it was still croaky. An explanation came to me when I saw that most of the Humans were hunched on the deck of the bay and leaning against the walls, heads in their hands. "Please enlighten us to why_ they—_" He pointed behind me where a swarm of Human aerial vehicles were speeding towards us. "—are heading this way? Quickly, 'cause we're about to get out of here; they don't seem to be too worried about killing us along with you."

I ignored the visibly upset Human and addressed the members of the Diverted directly: "I . . . was . . . ambushed . . . new Humans . . . wa-wa-want us . . . dead."

Qrs, appeased, pointed to the ramp I was on and did a hand signal directing the Diverted to it. Immediately, Krnat, Suras, and Kri jumped onto the ramp from the Pelican's bay, clearing the gap with little labor on their part. Freyn and Anve remained back to help the Unggoy over. The Ibie'shan jumped over as Qrs did and was watched carefully by Suras as it withdrew into the Prowler.

"NO!" A Unggoy objected as it was lifted up by Anve and tossed over the gap between the Prowler's ramp and the Pelican's bay. "DAVI!" The small creature held his paws out to one of the Humans in the Pelican's bay.

Anve and Freyn leaped over the gap, and as soon as they made contact with the ramp, it began rising—the Monarch was watching us.

"DAVI!" The Unggoy screamed as Suras dragged him up inside the Prowler's bowls. I turned to appraise how close the swarm of Human vehicles were, and became alarmed when I saw that their approach was imminent.

The Prowler began to move away from the Pelican slowly. Just as I was about to retreat back into the ship, an old-looking Human with an artificial leg leaped over the gap and slammed onto the ramp. Due to the ramp's inclined angle, the Human began to slide back down, but I grabbed one of his swinging arms and yanked him back up to his feet before we both retreated.

The Human's timing couldn't have been more precise. As soon as he landed on the ramp, the Prowler sped off.

"DAVI!" The Unggoy beamed as the small creature sprinted towards the Human, wrapping its arms around the Human's leg. The Human seemed uncomfortable with the Unggoy's bodily contact with him but was content with patting the little creature's head affectionately.

"NO! NO! NO!" The Monarch boomed as he came racing into the bay; the center eye of it was becoming red with fury and the charging of its laser weapon. "NO MERCY FOR_ ANY_ HUMAN!"

"I'm not a Human!" The_ Human_ replied, his tone supported by defiance, but no emotion in it. I believe I had heard of this Human before—the Constrictor, a replica of another Human of a comparable character. "Scan me—what there is to indicate that I am a Human is a lie. I want nothing to do with_ them_."

The Monarch obliged, and scanned the Constrictor over with a ray of red light originating from its center eye. When he finished, the associated intelligence locked its sight directly to the aging Human's face. "Your Deoxyribonucleic acid strands are Human but are also decaying," the Monarch said; his voice was thankfully calming. "You're the product of genetic manipulation and intensification both psychologically and physiologically. A, dare I say, exclusion to my criteria."

"I just want to be here for him," The Constrictor patted the head of the Unggoy to indicate the creature as his meaning. "What you do to Humans I won't bulge an eye in reply. We all die, and I don't care what happens to anyone other than Yoplap in that time."

"A abused mind, to be sure," the Monarch said, examining the Constrictor over. "Easily exploitable. Termination is oftentimes made easier with the cooperation from the a turncoat of the vermin—a logic illustrated to me through the eons. Very well, you may stay. But one sign of your typical Human arrogance or ignorance, and I'll slowly burn you to a crisp."

The Constrictor nodded but said no more. Promptly after the conclusion of this confliction, the Monarch sped from the bay. Qrs and Krnat followed with the Unggoy and Kig-Yar; the Constrictor followed the Unggoy named Yoplap that left the bay. Suras, Freyn, and Anve all remained . . . All looked at me.

"I-I-I am . . . sorry," I gently and honestly apologized.

"Is it true?" Anve asked, his tone thick with sorrow and having the side sensation as if he knew the answer, but wanted it to be false to his thesis. "Is Vale dead?"

I nodded weakly. "He died . . . be-because I-I-I . . . mis-misjudged . . . a few-few . . . T'vaoan."

"Then live with that," Freyn coldly said as he went after the others.

"You realize your weakness, Thel," Anve said as Suras sadly walked off after Freyn. "But you still said and did painful words and actions. And if what you say is true . . . If Vale died because you were careless . . . Then a thousand hells await_ you_."

Anve tramped off, leaving me. At this time of hostility and resentful atmosphere, being alone was the best for everyone.

I slumped over to the rail of the ramp's ground alcove and leaned down against it before removing my helmet. I flexed my mandibles and cracked my neck, each bubble of gas and air popping in my body bringing an unimaginable amount of pleasure and relief to me.

As much as I wanted to go after the Monarch and question it to this eight cycle leap, I wanted more just to relax and let reality seep into my apparently shallow mind.

Out of everything that had defined this rotation as my worst, Vale's death stood out as the most highly concentrated. In my eyes, he was a titan of a Sangheili; I never thought such an astounding person would fall so non-heroically.

That was right: I forgot about Vale's body . . . And Jol 'Turasee's . . . Both were at the mercy of the Humans with no one left there slipping into the category of likelihoods of protecting the remains. Vale deserved a proper burial; deserved to be martyred . . . If worst came to unfold, his body would be destroyed by the Humans.

I let out a depthless, light grunt at the notion.

"I miss him, too," 'Kuzomee said as he lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the rails, next to me. "You_ are_ musing on Vale Nar 'Sarasee?"

I nodded only once—but it was enough. "We left him there . . . This is all wrong . . ." I snapped my head around to face him, my eyes hard with a goal to learn what this Minor knew. "Tell me, why can the Demon_ see_ you? What_ was_ that white world? And how are you connected with the Hybrid; I know there is a bond of form, so do not lie."

"I only know what has been told to me, and that isn't much. I have just as many questions as you do, but I assure you, if there is a connection between me and T'Rakas, I'm unaware of it. The white world? I only know that it's a subconscious realm."

"My mind?" I asked, snorting in disbelief. "Then why was the Demon there?"

"I don't know."

I made a rumbling sound at the back of my throat as I mused. "What about you? How are you here? What technology beyond my understanding preserved your essence?"

"I can't say-"

"Really?" I snarled. "What is stopping you?"

"Again, I can't say."

He continued as I let out an irritated growl: "You shall know one rotation, just not_ this_ one. Trust me."

I calmed down, letting my head rest against the rails. "Did Vale trust you?"

"Yes. If it only increases your relation with me, know that I almost killed the Prophet of Pity with a Ghost that was tampered with by a Unggoy. Vale was the only one keeping my head attached to my neck."

I turned to face him, cocking an eye in suspicion. "For true? The self-loving bastard almost fell to you?"

"It was an accident, but, yes."

I nodded, turning my head front-and-center. "One day . . ." I repeated, closing my eyes. The rumbling sensation as we entered the Void was vibrating my body. We were heading to Sanghelios.

We were heading home.

* * *

><p><span><strong><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>**

Okay-dokey, going to head back to doing short chapters from here-on-out. After having to proof-read the past several chapters, I found going over ten thousand or more words twice or thrice to be tedious and tiresome.

There'll be the occasional long chapter, but I'll do my best to keep the word count from breaching a five to six thousand word limit.

This tactic should probably half the update time. I don't see any negativity out of it; you guys receive smaller chapters but at a faster rate. Or would you prefer longer chapters, but a longer wait?

In my personal experience with reading FanFictions, I often forget about characters because an author doesn't update in a while (Nothing wrong with that; life can be busy) and I personally find that chapters at a faster release date further helps build characters into the minds of readers due to continuous development of them.

Additionally, I also know from personal reading experiences that when an author updates and it's a huge chapter, it can be intimidating and tiresome to read. While long chapters are occasionally enjoyable when the action begins to pump, long middle-ground chapters can often be tedious for a reader in my opinion.

The latter mentioned reason really depends on the reader. It's random with me; I sometimes am excited about longer chapters, and at other times are intimidated by them.

Right, please leave a review if you're feeling up to writing one. Highlighting any pesky typos or embarrassing canon mistakes is much appreciated. Also, tell me if you have any problems at all with the chapter.


	50. Infinite Aftermath

**(Courtney Jsarez)**

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[September 3, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[1348 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-[Aboard Pelican Dropship Charlie-Four-Two, Inbound To UNSC**_** Infinity**_**]**

* * *

><p>Research into the science of Human Biology had a hindering control over my perspective of the several keys to survival—and the aspect dots of their meaning.<p>

One such key, resting dormant like a mat on the bottom of the biological pit, was sense. Senses broke down into several more layers of natural Human junction boxes that outplayed Humanity's facts on the board of control.

One sensory layer was touch. Touch—_my_ touch—had been fucked up to twist the pleasure it held to pain. This sense was a mysterious layer, and my mind saw itself set on one of the initial factories in its list—the main one for knowing the motion of your surroundings.

With my first layer of touch not falling under the jurisdiction of Eric's legacy, I was able to feel the seat I sat on; I felt the Pelican's vibrations as it flew through the planet's skyscape.

The rumbling of the Pelican's ascendancy to the colossal UNSC_ Infinity_ was smooth—or at least as smooth as what could classify as the motion of mention. To be literally_ smooth_ wouldn't justify the proportion of rumbling that_ was_ literal.

I could hear the engine of the Pelican as well. And while the sound of the Pelican's_ graceful_ flying wasn't uplinking with the various other sounds that I considered music, it_ was_ reassuring. While the engines roared with life, I was assured that the airspace proximately around the Pelican wasn't becoming denser and more radius costly with Echo Tango aircraft.

"Cleveland?" I asked Lieutenant Tobias O'Reilly. All other questions received the grinding of their short life, and quickly became redundant when other questions answered others in advance. I saved the worst for last . . .

O'Reilly's face dropped; his facial muscles drooped and turned his expression from the grim one that he wasn't on good terms with to an even grimmer one. "It was hit pretty hard during the invasion of Earth," O'Reilly said with a blank expression that matched his tone with precise accuracy. "A sum made it out, but a lot died, ma'am."

"There can still be a chance, right?" Lieutenant Colonel Lynda Keyes, asked; her tone was set in its urgent stage—a rare stage of her vocabulary. "And we can find out, for sure? How can't we? Go on—tell me otherwise. I'm not a fan of being proven wrong, but I'm no poor loser."

It was the Pelican that Lynda, Dean White and the survivors of their individual Fireteams were on that came to our assistance when 'Lodam betrayed us.

"We'll test that," Lieutenant Warren Fisher broke his "stay in the corner and look badass" routine. "We're out of UNSC space, and only communications on the interstellar Waypoint is possible; record access and downloading falls into the realm of impossibilities."

Red—switched to 098—walked up behind Lynda as she was about to counter Fisher, but the Office of Naval Intelligence agent cut her off. "The ship's local Waypoint servers only hold data sufficient to UNSC discoveries and consecutive excursions of Forerunner worlds and systematic facilities. The full collective of Human statuses can't be compressed enough to make room for the stream of database entries. All redundant files on the servers were deleted."

"Your massive servers can't hold a_ list of names_?" Lynda scoffed in amazement and bafflement. "No _infinite_ data on your_ Infinity_?"

"Weapons and equipment—experimental or otherwise; research banks; xenobiological and xenotechnology, xenopsychology." O'Reilly pushed off against the dividing wall that separated the bloodtray from the cockpit. "Prototype programs—it's all a long list of reasons that could fill a cave with their girth."

"Acceptable," 098 said. Lynda turned her head over her shoulder, unaware that he was behind her. "Human resource departments have servers connected with Waypoint. Possession of civilian data on military servers breaches several articles."

O'Reilly's eye cocked, and Fisher crossed his arms over his chest. "Those articles were sanctioned as of 2550," Fisher asserted in his cold, gritted tone. "You know ahead of your years, Petty Officer."

I squirmed where I was seated, on a bench. 098 didn't flinch. Was he testing the two ODSTs?

"A prediction, sir," 098 answered. "Preliminary resource departments were supplemented expansion methods by the UNSC. The discontinuation of a successful track record would be unconventional."

Fisher nodded—but his convinced level showed on his rough face. He reminded me too much of Wade Tulnai.

The two ODSTs let it slide, but remained suspicious. The Gravemind, at the very least, was content with what he got from the pair._ (Your inquisitor validations here in dealing are under spoken; undoubtedly an underrated observation; a vast alteration from those of your typical core figurine. I am more than merely "content".) _

The two ODSTs were dragged away by the three present surviving members of Dean and Lynda's Fireteam collectively to answer some questions about their homeworlds' fate. 098 saw an opportunity.

My brother's burnt armor clanked as he walked over to where I was seated as Staff Sergeant Jacob Dalton—a member of Lynda's Fireteam that was flying the Pelican_—_reported over the bay's intercoms. "We're plus three off of the_ Infinity_. I'm receiving docking instructions now."

The first thing of notice to my particular set of drowsy eyes was 098's change of stance. 098 unclenched his muscles and his shoulders slumped—not substantially, but enough to tick the Red buzzer in my head.

"It's Red," he said to affirm his presence further.

"Yeah, I just gathered that," I said.

"I won't be here for long," Red continued. "I've just got to convey something on the Gravemind's mind to you."

I straightened up in my seat. "He just called my assessing skills shit a minute ago—and he can't tell me something?"

"You won't believe him without my words going along with his," Red replied.

"You're his boon, eh?" I queried. "What's he got to say? Do his words match his bush beating?"

Red didn't bother responding to my quip. "It's related to the upcoming debriefings. He wants you and the rest of the survivors to refrain from indulging the interrogators in their inquiries."

". . . Meaning?"

"Don't relay anything that has happened these past weeks to the interrogators. Only give them information up to when I was sent to the Library—no more, no less. No one's to go farther than when my Pelican left the_ Kryptonite_."

I rubbed my jaw. My body still ached from Red's battering, but rubbing my jaw didn't inflame pain on his side—only sensations that hit hard at home got received on the opposite end. ". . . Why? I'm all for pissing off ONI, if that's what this is. But really, I had no idea the Gravemind would side-"

"It's not that," Red interrupted in a whisper, so no one heard us save Dean and Lynda who overheard, and were taking an interest. "The Gravemind's in the preparations of making his trump card. He wants me to tell the interrogators everything—not anyone else. They can only hear the proportion of what has happened from me alone."

"By_ you_ delivering all the contents of factor to them, you mean the Gravemind, correct?" Dean asked.

Red nodded without turning to face the Marine. "He'll pitch in when it falls into necessity for him—there's still the Monitors implant."

"This doesn't add up to a single sum," Lynda groaned, turning to me and staring into my eyes. "Hey, wormfuck, mind devolving a little more information? 'Cause we ain't doing shit otherwise."

_(Human verbal choices vary to the elegant and declines to the colloquial. This class's existence should not be. And the expressions she makes . . .)_ I smiled as Lynda puckered her lips at my eyes, addressing the Gravemind._ (How bothersome.)_

"The Gravemind's bored," Red said._ (A depressed state, how have you?)_ "And he's developing different forms of entertainment. One is to observe Human puzzlement; the other is to inflict pain. He's leaning himself towards the former side as pain's grown archaic to him. He prefers watching the Human psyche—that's why he wants to create a puzzle-piece story for the interrogators."

"I don't see any problem with ONI not getting the full details of what has happened," Dean said.

"They will know the full story," Red assured. "The Gravemind plans on them knowing everything by the end. If he's lying, then Joyce or Day will eventually spill the beans anyway—if they agree to go along with it to begin with; I'm not planning on giving the two a choice, though."

"I see no problem," Lynda said. "If we don't do anything-"

"The Gravemind will torture me and Courtney to death," Red broke in. My brother showed no emotions to the threat whatsoever. "He doesn't plan on outliving his lifespan any longer than necessary, and wants to go out laughing."

"He's giving up?" I asked. "That spore in your head is the last Flood form in the galaxy. He's just going to call it quits?"

"If he does give up, he'll go down fighting . . . with my body as his tool," said Red. "But who said he's the last Flood?"

"But-" I stopped myself. The mention of the Gravemind's spore being the last of the Flood dawned out of pure speculation. If Dean and Lynda didn't get what Red said, I sure did.

"Okay, we'll play ball," Lynda said, crossing her arms. "But the rest of the crew won't all be so willing—especially doctors Joyce and Day. They'll need a little more convincing."

"I'll handle them," Red said as he swiveled his head around to face me. "A team of four SPARTANs and a Naval officer are going to rush you to the bridge to speak with the Captain as soon as we dock. Before he'll be able to conduct a formal debriefing, ONI agents stationed on the ship will take custody of us. All Pelicans will be docking in the same bay, so we can reach each crew member with relative ease."

"What if the ship's AI picks up on our 'sneaky-weaky' talk?" Lynda asked.

"If she does, it won't have any long-term repercussions," Red said. "They can't stop us. But the bay will be densely populated with personnel, so subtracting our voices out of the hundred or so others will be time consuming for the AI."

"Attention, we're entering the bay in minus thirty seconds. Hold on tight, ladies and gentlemen," Dalton announced.

"Remember," Red said, grabbing onto a handle attached to the bay's ceiling, "only tell them everything you knew up to when I left the_ Kryptonite_ for the Library. Any mention of the Gravemind or anything after falls under strict no-tell regulations that I just made. Pass this on to the others. The Gravemind will tell me if any aren't planning on upholding their end."

"It shouldn't matter much anyway," Dean said. "They'll call all the officers for debriefing before they summon Sierra. Once we keep telling the interviewer to go fetch Red and talk to him, they'll skip the enlisted."

"We're being locked down on a pad. Brace yourselves," Dalton advised. The ODST's voice echoed from the intercoms and through the enclosed bay as the Pelican_ screeched_; the pad's locking mechanisms grappled the dropship and clenched it tightly down onto the pad. The Pelican did one final shake before Dalton set off the disembarking alarms.

The ramp_ ground_ against the braces holding it up as it lowered; Dalton came out of the cockpit as the ramp descended, letting in a seam of light that got wider.

Me, Red, Lynda, Dean, the four Marines of their Fireteams, and the two ONI employed agents waited patiently for the_ clank_ of the ramp hitting the pad before rushing out, grabbing what bags and weapons we had and disembarking_ Infinity_.

Light shone in my eyes, and I regretted not packing a pair of glasses in accordance with my "no looking cool" policy.

My eyes adjusted—I wished they hadn't. The bay was_ too_ big. There were six raised Pelican pads—including the one we were on—with ramps connected off of the sides to allow personnel and vehicles to access the dropships.

Alarms blared around the bay, and walkways and balconies and the overhanging control booth occupied the airspace. Passageways built into the bulkhead of the hanger bay led up to the high observational points.

There were also machinery rails going vertically and horizontally across the airspace that sported cargo arms to lift the crates stacked neatly and out-of-the-way to avoid obstruction.

For a hanger bay, it was too bright and not dense enough. There was also a major majority of people—fifty crewmen, to be exact, each with their own appointed task and responsibility.

Lynda whistled in astonishment while Dean just grunted—he wasn't impressed. The others didn't say anything; the two ODSTs were familiar with the_ Infinity_, and the news of the aptly named "time paradox" was still raw in the minds of the Marines.

"Ma'am," A Naval officer saluted us as he and four SPARTANs behind him halted. I returned the salute and the others behinds me followed my example.

"Captain Courtney Jsarez of the UNSC_ Kryptonite_," I introduced myself in correspondence with protocol. "Awaiting orders."

The officer stood at ease; I and the others did the same—our relief matched each others. "Petty Officer Richardson, ma'am. I'm to escort you to the bridge and answer any questions you have in the mean time."

"What about us?" Lynda asked.

"Until further orders are received, the rest of the crew will have to remain in this bay. Officers will be present to answer any questions you have relating to your homeworlds. However, information on your families and relatives-"

"They already know," Fisher interrupted. "So, can we avoid this needless banter? I need to see our handler promptly."

The Petty Officer nodded. "You're free to go, Lieutenant. Aine will steer you to your handler."

Regardless of O'Reilly's smiley manner, he fell in with Fisher like a soldier as they made their way down the ramp connecting our pad to the deck. The four Marines followed them; they knew the statuses of their planets. Fortunately, they either grew up on Earth or in outer colonies that hit it lucky. They were all broken inside, but they managed to hold it together.

The Pretty Officer waved us down the ramp. We followed him and the four SPARTANs—neither of which resisted from glancing at Red now and then. Evidently, they still felt inadequate compared to an_ actual_ SPARTAN.

"What's with the escort?" Lynda finally asked. I was planning on asking myself, but I knew she would ask sooner or later.

"The_ Infinity's_ AI picked up unauthorized channels being set up by your Marines on the Pelicans," Richardson replied. "She investigated, and found a lot of chatter that set off multiple alarms across the board. There's the strong possibility that someone may make an attempt on your life."

"I've been on negative terms with the crew for a while," I said, trying to avoid mention of the "time paradox". "They like to put blame on me over the eight years we were lost when it's_ clearly_ not my fault."

"People like a scapegoat, ma'am," the Naval officer said. "They don't care who it is, they just want one. It's cruel and original, but truthfully a fact all the same."

We came up to a ramp of five meters in width that led to a set of enormous blast doors. The Petty Officer and his four SPARTANs turned as we arrived. "I'll have to ask for everyone but the Captain to remain here," Richardson said politely. "Security protocols."

They wouldn't argue; the three of them needed to spread the Gravemind's plan through the ranks. And I would be safe; so far, they didn't know I was out for Parangosky.

Without a word, Red, Lynda, and Dean broke off and left to regroup with the other survivors. They would accumulate a report on the crew members that I would go over later; I wanted to know who lived and who died.

The Petty Officer waved me on, spinning around and continuing. Now was when the four SPARTANs closed in around me. To say that I was entirely convinced of this being a "friendly" escort would be a lie. I felt like I was being treated like a war criminal.

"So, you guys have been gone for eight years?" One of the SPARTANs—a female adorned in gray armor—asked. Her voice was notably gung-ho, and it sounded she had messed the grim_ reaper_ over a few times. "I hate to think that your crew's grim faces are a first."

Looked like someone figured out something I would rather they not to have. "We lost a lot of people when the carrier attacked," I explained. "I think devastation sums it up with a nice bow."

"I'll bet," the female SPARTAN said. "So, what exactly happened?"

_(Lie to her.)_ "What happened to us? We were stranded on a planet for eight years," I answered; I had no intention of divulging any extra information.

"Your uniform's not exactly saying the same, Captain," the SPARTAN pointed out. "You may have had other suits—you may have not. Point is, all suits would not be as newly created as yours. Add to that the malnutrition that_ isn't_ there. Oh, did I mention that your story's complete bullshit?"

_(Remind you of anyone?)_ Yes, this SPARTAN was a lot like Lynda. I always wondered what it would be like to be on Lynda's shit-list. "And I would be lying_ why_?" I asked. The Petty Officer or other SPARTANs were stepping in; she had to be one of the top-dogs.

"I don't know . . . There's a lot of reasons, and I'm not looking to be proven wrong, so I'll let the Captain handle you. Just know that if you even_ breath_ the wrong way, I'm putting a bullet in your head."

"I'll write that down," I huffed. "Don't want any bullets in my head now."

"Yeah, kinda sucks," the SPARTAN stated.

We all arrived at an elevator at the end of the wide corridor and entered an even broader elevator.

The ship's AI controlled the elevator, and it went surging upwards. I was unprepared for the speed, so I stumbled, but one of the SPARTANs grabbed my arm and steadied me.

The lift changed its movement from up to sideways—the damn thing doubled-over as a tram. I was getting motion sick . . . I hated this ship and everything on it. I hated its Captain, Andrew Del Rio. The turd stain on the sheet always considered himself better than everyone else, and constantly put people down and overemphasized how godlike he was. I wished that someone, one day, would just tell him to go fuck himself so he wouldn't think of himself as top-shit anymore. . .

After about five minutes, the tram and elevator hybrid came to a halt. The doors_ hissed_ open, and I was further taken aback as to_ how big the elevator leading up to the bridge was_.

In the brief description I could conjure up in my head, everything was bright. Lights illuminated the corridor like a Christmas tree, and there was a lot of white paint. What wasn't painted white was painted light gray. Seemed like whoever designed the ship wanted people to think that they were in heaven.

The bridge, once our company reached it, wasn't as bad—it was quite doable. There was a table in the middle of the room which projected holographical screens and models; above it rested the projector. Surrounding the deck the control table was on was two elevated sections that held the operations stations with the command crew seated and doing their tasks. A small set of stairs led down to a ground alcove in front of the massive viewport that Del Rio was standing in front of before he turned at the sound of the bridge's doors opened and moved up the flight of stairs.

While Del Rio walked towards me, I examined the rest of the bridge. It was dense and had computer screens hanging all around, being supported by thick, strong cords structured to the ceiling. Different panels and incisions outlined the ground. I was amazed by the reminiscent Human architecture.

"Captain Jsarez," Del Rio saluted. Reluctantly, I returned the salute as did the four SPARTANs and Richardson. "At ease." I relaxed as the Captain turned his gaze to the five behind me. "Petty Officer, SPARTANs, you're dismissed."

Without a word, the SPARTANs and Naval officer left the bridge. As soon as they were gone—like they were a hand holding him back—Del Rio gestured to the table that was projecting a holograph of the UNSC_ Kryptonite's_ wreck.

"You've got a lot to explain, Captain," Del Rio said. "For one, where are these two Forerunner AIs that I heard of from Blackbird?"

"The Monitor disappeared after he disabled the carrier, sir. I though he might've regrouped with us." I shrugged. "Guess not. And the Monarch was in the earliest stages of rampancy. Though, 'early' means going totally crazy in Forerunner terms; the Monarch killed four SPARTANs and assisted Thel 'Lodam in stealing that Prowler."

Del Rio crossed his arms as a holograph of Thel 'Lodam appeared on the table—captured and rendered through drone imagery. "Speaking of the Elite, Captain, mind telling me why a single Elite—an Ultra, at that—managed to hijack a Prowler and kill_ four_ SPARTANs?"

My feelings of the time matched the blank look on my face that was signature for me when I was around Naval officers. "The Elite had the help of the Monarch," I said. "And, mind you, that this Elite almost killed the Master Chief a while back. I don't think a bunch of ODSTs in shiny armor would pull on his ankles or make his day anymore worse than it must've been."

My remark towards the SPARTANs didn't impress Del Rio—the idiot didn't realize that he had fallen into my trap. "Watch your tongue, Captain," Del Rio snapped. "These are highly trained soldiers and are significantly more respected than you'll ever be. And they demand your respect as well; the fours are war veterans, dammit! They did a hell of a lot more than you did in your eight-year vacation!"

"You have no idea," I chuckled. "I outdo your achievement scale_ so_ damn much."

Del Rio frowned, twitching his round nose. "Explain, now."

"Doesn't this fall out of your field? I'm still ONI's property, Captain."

"To be honest, I really don't want to hear your bullshit story anyway." Del Rio squinted his left eye as he added, "You haven't aged, Jsarez."

"Captain," an Executive Officer came up next to the table and typed in a list of commands, "you better take a look at this."

The yellow model of the UNSC_ Kryptonite's_ crash site zoomed in on one particular section.

"You seem to be losing a lot of things today, Captain." Del Rio clicked his fingers, and the avatar of a yellow female AI appeared. "Aine, mind elaborating for me? I don't want to yell anymore today."

"The UNSC Kryptonite had an inbuilt storage _compartment_," the AI, Aine, said. "The partition was to house Forerunner relics and artifacts recovered." the holograph of the_ Kryptonite_ zoomed in on where the compartment was meant to be. "Upon closer inspection, you'll see that the storage compartment is missing, and there's no wreckage to indicate its destruction in the attack on the_ Kryptonite_."

What were they suggesting? "Yeah, I removed it a while ago to make room," I quipped.

"I guess it just disappeared with your Monitors," Del Rio concluded, shaking his head. "I don't know why I try talking to you." The Captain shifted his sight to the AI. "Aine, have a Prowler requisitioned for the Captain here and her crew."

"Why?" I questioned, wary of where he was going.

"We got a transmission not long ago to meet up with a Sangheili fleet to hunt a Covenant cult. We don't have time to take you back to Earth, and will be jumping into Unggoy space in minus two hours. An ONI Prowler will take you and your crew back to Earth and debrief you on the way."

I took a step forward. "We are_ not_ leaving the wreckage of my ship behind! Not with all the bodies still on it!"

"Relax, Captain." Del Rio waved Aine away in advance of turning to face me, the XO still staying by his side. "We can retrieve the bodies in less than two hours. They'll all be cryogenically stored and delivered to their respective commands during our next return to Earth in a week or so. Besides, we wouldn't let a political asset such as the bodies of dead Sangheili go unnoticed. The Arbiter speaks highly of a missing Elite named Vale 'Sarasee. But it seems like you let him die as well if reports can be trusted. The body will have to do."

"Keep putting all the blame on me, Andrew," I crossed my arms and leaned on the command table. "It's not like I allowed all these Covenant cultists and extremist groups to form." I pointed my finger at Del Rio. "You and HIGHCOM, on the other hand, could've done more."_ (An illustration crystal for the ears: to not be the hub impeder to Macto cognatus relations and being the hand of a civil war.) _

"I assure you, Captain, that the UNSC is doing everything in their power to bring an end to hostilities. The existence of another prominent Sangheili would be cream for the pie."

While I avoided laughing at Del Rio's indirect fuck-up that he was oblivious to, I deciphered what he said in my mind: "I assure you, Captain, that ONI is doing everything in their power to keep hostilities going. I am very thankful that you allowed a Sangheili that could pose a threat to us get killed. I'm also an asshole."

"Aine," Del Rio re-summoned the AI, "have Lieutenant O'Reilly and Fisher assigned to the Prowler returning to Earth. Their handler says that HIGHCOM would want a word with them as well."

"Yes, sir," Aine said has her avatar disappeared.

Once Aine's yellow light had flickered out, Del Rio snapped his cold stare to me. "Captain Jsarez, you're dismissed. A SPARTAN team will be waiting just outside the bridge to escort you back to your crew. The Prowler should be ready in minus an hour." Del Rio sniffed the air. "Things will smell a lot nicer once you're off my ship."

Yeah, someone out there needed to get_ here_ and kick Del Rio's ass. Belaying the dreams of the impossible, I turned about and left the bridge without even saluting—the Captain didn't care. I strode up the flight of stairs leaving the bridge, and the doors_ hissed_ open as I approached them. Four new SPARTANs awaited me.

The return to the hanger bay was quiet with no SPARTAN raising conversation or touching my breasts; I could thank 'Lodam for one thing. I didn't want to believe that the Elite did what he did. There wasn't any cause for his actions—he just acted out of context. Red's anger matched that of my own. He hadn't mentioned it yet, but there was only reason I was more pissed off than I should have be. Add to my anger that Joseph Gamble and Lilly Gantant got kidnapped as well . . .

Things got tense once I returned to the bay and played the deadly stares I was getting from various crew members off as nothing that coincided with my confident demeanor.

Lynda came walking up to me as the four SPARTAN-IVs left me. Apparently my escort's duration was when I was being moved through the areas that I_ didn't_ need guarding in.

"How'd it go?" I asked my closest friend as she fell in next to me, both of us heading somewhere quiet; Marines and other personnel were screaming bloody murder over news of their lost home worlds. I couldn't be around the atmosphere for too long.

"Good, considering," Lynda said as we both entered a nearby restroom. "As anticipated, Joyce and Day weren't going to go along with it. But, a few well-placed threats from Red seemed to get the message across. Others were also persistent in keeping their freedom of speech, but Red reminded them that we weren't in America."

"What kind of threats did Red make?" I asked, pushing the door open and entering the tiled room that served as the female's bathroom.

"With Joyce and Day, it was threats that the Gravemind was going to torture you two. Those guys are ONI—but they won't let yous fall prey to the Gravemind's perversions."_ (Bitch.)_

"The other threats weren't on their lives," Lynda continued, sitting up on the long bathroom bench, "but centered on little secrets that they had which the Gravemind was all for spilling."

"And they went along?"

Lynda shrugged. "Those residing to their rebel side mostly consisted of the asshole branch of the crew. Five in total were resistant. Two were Day and Joyce, and the others fell in line as well when secrets naughty enough to have them court-martialled were threatened with the gloomy light."

"So, it's all quiet now?" I asked, sitting up on the bench next to her.

"In a matter of speaking. The others remembered that the Gravemind knew about their families, and were trying to pursue Red for information. Though, none of them got anywhere with their questions; the Gravemind won't tell them anything, and Red pressed that into their heads."

I nodded, leaning my back against a mirror. "Doubt's got a hold on my mind, Lynda. I don't think Joyce and Day will keep what happened to themselves forever. Well, not when they're put in front of Parangosky for a debriefing."

"By then, wouldn't Red be finished?" Lynda asked.

I took that into consideration. "Possibly. _Bah_, doesn't matter. Let the Gravemind and Red roll this over—we'll just sit back and relax."

"Sounds great!" Lynda leaned back against a mirror as well.

"So . . ." I hesitated, trying to bring the right words to mind. "I've got to ask, is there anything going on between you and Major Tyler Hauver?"

Lynda huffed, amused. "Why would there be? I was drunk, remember?"

"You saved him till last in your apology round," I pointed out. "And Timmy said that you were in his quarters for a while-"

"You had Timmy spy on me?!" Lynda gawked. "Why didn't you just have him tell you what happened in there?"

"Privacy."

Lynda snorted. " 'Privacy'? There wasn't much privacy when you had Timmy spying on me?"

"I didn't," I sighed. "He was worried about you, so he told me."

"Fucking pervert . . ." Lynda struggled to find the right words. "What the hell did Red reprogram him with?"

"Did you sleep with him or not?" I asked with a sly smile.

"No! We . . .We just had a private chat . . . Why Timmy got worried over that is stupid! Anyway, we just talked about stuff, and he expressed that he's disappointed in the Marine Corps as well, but won't stop serving it.

We also talked about some more things close to home with him . . ." Lynda closed her eyes and shook her head. "I promised not to talk to anyone about it."

I nodded, understanding whatever secret trauma he had gone through. My nodding stopped when Lynda suddenly punched me in the shoulder. "Why the fuck did you think I fucked him, anyway? Forget Timmy!"

"You've gotten freaky with a lot of Marines before, Lynda," I reminded her. "FLEETCOM consistently stressed that you were insubordinate."

Lynda groaned. "When I was_ drunk_! I never got touchy-wouchy with anyone when I wasn't drunk . . ." I heard her sniff, and reactively turned to see her wipe away tears. "I only forget about my family when I'm drunk . . . I can't think of sex otherwise . . . That's why I drink so much; sex and hangovers get rid of the bad feelings, you know?"

I never saw it from how she saw it. I wasn't making it onto the top one hundred best friends list. "I'm so, so sorry," I closed my eyes and shook my head. I hated myself.

"Anyway, he's too young!" Lynda punched my shoulder again, making me giggle. "I wouldn't be able to keep rhythm!"

I laughed, but it quickly died when the sudden thought of Bethany Jayde entered my head. "Lynda, today . . ." I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Today, I kicked a young girl down the ladder of an elevator shaft to survive even when I believed I was going to die . . . She frozen; frozen in shock. She died, and I also got someone else injured. . ."

Lynda went dead silent, and I was afraid that she was going to scold me. Such a scolding from her never happened. "You're gonna let something like that get to you, ain't cha?"

I nodded. "I killed her to save myself."

"You killed her to save yourself because she was frozen in shock, as you said," Lynda leaned against me, wrapping her arms around me. "I would've done the same. If you don't have the mental strength demanded for the job she was in, then of course there would be adverse outcomes for her. She put you and others in danger because she joined something she wasn't ready for."

And there was the merit. I hated it, but nodded to it. "I still killed her . . . And she was_ so_ afraid-"

Lynda tightened her grab around me. "Please, don't let this go to your head. I don't want to lose you."

"You'll never lose me as long as I have Red," I reassured her, smiling as I snuggled my head into her shoulder.

I think it was then that I jinxed it.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Wow, this was fun to write. Sorry that there's not really a Lasky cameo; I couldn't find a good time to stick him in.

There's a few more followers. Unfortunately, I haven't been keeping track on who joined when. I'll only list the followers that joined after the release of the previous chapter. If you aren't mentioned because I forgot to do so previously, I apologize, and I'll do my best to prevent a similar occurrence.

I believe acknowledgment of supporters in any way makes an author more . . . reader-orientated. As such, I would like to thank getsugabridged and Spartanooo-B TheUnknownWarrior for hitting that follow button. I hope you guys stick around. If you would like an OC of your design placed into the story, please leave a review saying so, or P.M me.

Right, pretty-please leave a review pointing out any typos or canon mistakes as those are two things I really want to be absent from my story at all costs. Also, if you spot any plot-holes, highlighting them would also be really appreciative. Speaking of which, since Lilly Gantant and Joseph Gamble were in the Prowler, they are pretty much dead. Too bad I had Gamble appear in the future sometime. As of the release of this, I removed Gamble's appearance and replaced it.

Thanks go out to The Constitutionalist for all the typos and grammar errors he has pointed out.

Right, enough turning my A/N into a blog post.


	51. Conjunction

**(Campbell Joyce)**

**Installation 06 Timeline**

**[DATE]****-****[September 3, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[1404 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-[Non-Designated Hanger Bay, UNSC**_** Infinity**_**]**

* * *

><p>The Navy officer scanned his datapad; when he found the planet he was looking for, he produced it up to full view and smiled.<p>

I peered over to his datapad, and saw a brief few words saying that my homeworld, Minister, was still active. "I'm happy to say that Minister was never discovered by the Covenant, and is unharmed," the officer declared; he looked at me and smiled hopefully.

I didn't return the smile. My family was alive—they never had plans on moving from Minister, and my father's business would've kept my family from ever moving. But eight years was a long time—but it wasn't the explanation for my blank face. Surrounding me were dozens of Marines either crying or emotionally dead—it would be unethical for me to celebrate.

Hallas Day gripped my shoulder from where he stood behind me, and shook it reassuringly. "I'm so happy for you. It's just . . . Wow, you got lucky."

"Too lucky," a Marine hissed, slumping off; he had just heard that his homeworld suffered the same fate as many others.

I ran a hand through my hair and nodded to the Navy officer before breaking off to let the next person put his query forth. "You're not going to ask?" I asked Hallas as we took a seat on a locked down, leveled storage container off to the side of the queue.

"My family is pretty well-known, and instead of waiting in line, I just asked around. They're all right, thank_ God_. As a bonus, I heard that they've started up several different fund-raisers and support departments for survivors of the war." Hallas chuckled. "My family were always the generous kind. But I wouldn't have it any other way—I_ love_ those two to_ death_!"

"Could you not talk about them now?" I asked.

"_Oh_?"

"Sorry—you're just talking about your family when mine could_ still_ be dead."

"Shit," Hallas cursed. "I apologize—I defied the principle code of being a doctor: to think before you talk."

"It's fine," I said. "I'm just in a grim mood . . ." I looked around; my eyes fell on everyone who had their heads in their hands. "It's just the atmosphere."

"The Captain and Colonel managed to escape that," Hallas said—he was referencing the two retreating to the restrooms. "But they're just beating the sleeping lion now."

"The crew's going to resent them more, now," I said solemnly. "They're not meaning to escalate things, of course—but anticipating the verticality to these decisions isn't_ hard_."

Hallas nodded. "But it must be difficult for them . . . They care about us—the Marines can say what they will; they_ care_ for us. It's not something for discussion—it's_ fact_!"

"Hey, guys," Tom McAllister stopped in front of us; he had just come from asking a query officer of his homeworld's status. "By the looks of your faces, I'd say that news was good for."

By the look of_ his_ face, his psyche and ours weren't linked up in perfect harmony. "More or less," I said as I studied his face carefully. I lost my lenses during the battle on the_ Kryptonite_, but my short-sightedness didn't stop me from seeing the tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I quietly said; my voice was so weak that it was almost a whisper.

Tom sighed and took a seat next to Hallas on the container. "My little girl would've been nine . . . I'd make it as her big brother . . ."

"Is there any chance they might have made it out?" Hallas asked. He didn't know Tom—but he cared for anyone and everyone. "Which planet was it?"

"Troy. Some were lucky enough to be evacuated . . . but the mold of what happened is classified—I didn't- I couldn't find out what exactly happened. The officer . . ." Tom's voice broke. "The officer just said that my family was certainly dead."

"He did?" I asked.

Tom nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat and pointing at the query officer. "He doesn't want to be here, and he's taking it out on us. Major Hauver went to him also . . ."

The mention of Tyler Hauver's name made me scan the bay for him; it didn't take me long to find him sitting firmly on a small cargo container and staring dead at the ground and trembling.

"Reach," I lamented. "I heard people made it out-"

"The queries officer was quick to rebuke that," Tom sniffed; he was trying to hold in his whimpers as best he could. "He seems . . . He seemed to enjoy smashing our hopes like a wall—he's a wrecking ball."

"That's cruel," I said as Dean White came over to us.

"Hey," He nodded; his reinforced voice from his vocal surgery was annoying trademark. "Are you three holding up fine?"

I scrutinized him with my pair of squinting eyes, and I made sure that he saw them. "We were blackmailed into refusing to cooperate with ONI," I said. "I'm not overly joyed since torture_ is_ a tactic they are fond, Captain—they brought me in for psychological warfare one time, so I_ know_."

"I apologize, but the Gravemind's insistent-"

I shook my head. "I don't blame you and the others—so disregard my words. I'm just . . . trying to see what the Gravemind has to gain here—to break past his grip that defines what goes on between Sierra and the Captain."

"I would be lying if I said I had complete faith in Red," White said. "But the Captain, I trust with my life—I have to. I agreed with this because she does—I believe she knows what she and Red are doing."

Courtney Jsarez mentioned that she fancied White when she talked to me about wanting to move on from being raped. I wouldn't have assumed that she and he would have intercourse—I was against anything that warranted sex so soon after beginning therapy. But the Captain was smart—and I judged this to support fuelled and not sexual; White's choice of words helped with this.

"Captain," Hallas said, "a queries officer is acting odious; he's consecutively trying to upset people by re-enforcing a fact that may or may not be true—he's telling people from the_ Kryptonite_ that their families are certainly dead."

White nodded; his eyes fell on Lynda Keyes and the Captain as they exited the bays restrooms, and were heading this way. "The Captain will help me deal with this." His eyes locked onto mine. "Enough bullshit is enough. We'll keep it professional—and we'll remind everyone here that we're_ still_ commissioned officers, and we_ still_ care for them."

I admired his words—but while he was saying them, First Lieutenant Frank Sullivan was now talking to the officer. "Captain," I said with urgency, "Sullivan's talking to him."

White spun around and hurried over. My doctor's interest took the better of me—I bustled after him with Tom and Hallas on my tail.

"You what?!" Sullivan snapped at the officer in his gruff voice. "I get they're dead—you don't have to fucking remind me, you cocksucking cunt!"

"Lieutenant," Dean interjected, grabbing Sullivan's arm and pulling him back before he could hit the officer. "Enough!" Dean turned the Lieutenant around to face him.

"Sullivan," I joined in, "he wants a reaction._ Don't_ indulge him—it'll only help him. Remember, people like to provoke for the most_ cruelest_ of reasons."

Sullivan was a regular to my sessions, so he would listen to me . . . I hoped.

"What's going on?" The Captain asked, skidding to a stop behind us as a crowd massed around the attention deriving scene.

"This asshole liked to_ stressfully_ point out the_ obvious_!" Sullivan growled, trying to squirm out of Dean's hold. "I_ KNOW_ THAT THEY'RE_ DEAD_! I DON'T NEED A_ FUCKING REMINDER_!"

"He acted the same around me," Tom added.

"I'll add to that_ gladly_," Tyler also said, coming through the crowd and wearing a scowl aimed at the query officer.

"We don't need this," the Captain spoke up. "And you're putting a bad stamp on the Navy's credibility. Stop it, please."

The query officer hissed quietly. "If I'm gonna be submitted to bringing people up to speed with shit I'd rather forget, I'm gonna have fun along the way—tell me I'm not the_ only one_ who feels this way!"

"You're bored of your job," Hauver observed.

"Entertaining yourself at the expense of other peoples' emotions sets you up badly," the Captain said in a tone trying to appeal to the officer. "And I agree—this is definitely repetitive work, and it's not in your field of responsibility."

"But you made an_ oath_ to obey any order with questions being something you don't mash in with them," Colonel Keyes added. "Grow a pair of balls and suck it up, swabbie; you could be a lot worst off than you are now."

"Just look at us," I grim-faced Marine, I didn't know, said.

White released Sullivan when the latter calmed himself down; it also looked as if the officer was going to apologize.

"I don't like thinking of what happened," the officer said. "_Every_ planet your dipshit crew asked me about_ are planets I lost family on_!"

"Share the pain, why don't cha?" Lynda scoffed. "I'm pretty sure your associates lost friends on Reach, but the breaking down of my boys and gals didn't spark any fond memories of theirs! Get your shit together!"

"Sorry," the officer said; he shook his head and marched to the exit of the bay, cursing to no one.

"Just needed to be put back into place," concluded Keyes as everyone began breaking off and returning to fixating anxiously over their lost homeworlds and possibly lost families.

"Where the heck was Sierra during all that?" Sullivan asked himself as he dragged off.

I spotted Red. He was off the side of the departing crowd; his alignment matched 098's through studies and information the SPARTAN gave me. I ran through my head a diagram that matched together the conclusive characteristics with their respective physic—I knew each stance for each alter.

"That could have escalated quickly," Tom said as he, Hallas and I just stood there; soon after he said that, we all turned and moved off to somewhere quiet.

"At least the crew knew not to push it," Hallas said. "But It'd be a far-fetched assumption to think that they refrained out of a mutual respect for the Colonel and Captain. Almost all scraps of respect everyone had is gone."

"Even_ I'm_ doubting if I should uphold my belief that my dedication to the Captain wasn't wasteful," Tom said.

I took a seat on the same container the three of us were on earlier; the other two did the same. "I know without a doubt that the Captain had your best interests in mind," I said. "I'm _convin_ced that her reasons for keeping this information from you is legitimately qualified. Just . . . go ask her."

Tom scratched the back of his head. "I won't do that. I trust you—and I see your point. I'll just . . . keep with the fact that she planned on telling us . . . I've got other things to worry about anyway." Tom got up. "Excuse me, I-I need some time . . . alone."

"Sure," Hallas said as I nodded along with him; Tom returned the nod and walked off. My eyes didn't follow him—I had to give him his privacy, no matter in what way I may deliver the gesture.

My mind tumbled over the thought of David Larson. I wished he was here . . . even if it was with his Unggoy friend. But he made his choice—he chose the Diverted over us and ultimately betrayed ONI. I never thought his feelings could conjunct with his sense of duty. And they couldn't—David picked one before the other. He chose Yoplap. I hated the Unggoy, but I was grateful it could offer David compassion.

There was a contradiction. The Elite Ultra, Thel 'Lodam, was helping him up the ramp when the Prowler sped away—so the Ultra's sudden betrayal that had been rumoring about added up to nothing. Why didn't he just push Larson off the ramp instead?

And where was the Monitor and the Hybrid? Fleighted Fire disabled the carrier and then disappeared. He didn't head to a Pelican for extraction; he hadn't turned up at the_ Infinity_. The Hybrid maybe died when the carrier let loose its barrage on the_ Kryptonite_.

My most time-consuming interest was what I witnessed happen to the carrier. It was gradually descending to collide with the_ Kryptonite's_ wreck—then it froze, and a few moments later, turned to dust! I saw it_ myself_ as Tuscany Clad, our Pelican's pilot, was preparing to speed away if the carrier was to continue descending; the bay was facing directly at the spectacle.

Everyone had the same questions as I did, but no one had the emotional space to ask those questions; everyone was thinking about themselves and their dead comrades. Even Tom suffered the same—he watched all of his Fireteam save Jeff Woods, and Albert Freud die. He wouldn't be able to escape the emotional scarring—and now he was worse with the news of his family.

"Have you noticed that a lot of the bay's personnel have their eyes on us?" Hallas asked. "More specifically, they're checking out the younger of us. It's pretty obvious, but I want to rule out any other explanation first."

"No. No other explanation will fit into the slot," I said. "They're suspicious about our age—about why survivors look like they're still sly of their twenties when no one here should be younger than twenty-four or twenty-five."

"The Gravemind didn't just get under-minded, did he?"

"No," I said tonelessly. "I don't think it violates the Gravemind's plans too much if ONI or the crew realized that the eight years that past for us don't go down well with their eight years. Still, the Captain and her brother will fall to harm if we just outright tell them—of that I'm sure. So I'm opting to keep my mouth shut."

"I concur," Hallas said. "But once Parangosky gets her hands on us . . ."

"We'll hope that Red's done by then," I stopped him, "and we'll be free to end any eluding act we put on. If not, then we'll just have to endure Parangosky pulling our nails off."

"Maybe . . . Hm . . ." Hallas rubbed his chin as he mused. "It's been eight years-"

"Parangosky is versatile," I quickly cut him off. "Age is just a blunder to her—she'll have her organs cloned, or akin. She may not like the concept of cloning—but she'll be damned if she lets ONI get changed by a successor."

"What about-"

"Oh no," I said before Hallas could continue. My eyes had just fallen on the last person I was expecting to meet; the one person who could put leverage to any theory that eight years hadn't passed for us.

Walking towards me and wearing a smile was Thomas Lasky. I felt horrible that seeing his face after eight years didn't elate me. He must have heard that I was here, and wanted to see me. He always had that aura of friendship. I admired it—but now I found it to be a troublesome child that needed a good spanking.

"You know him?" Hallas asked; Tom had his eyes set straight on me, and was approaching fast.

"Yes," I said shallowly. "We're_ way_ too close. He's going to realize something is not right."

"It doesn't matter—you just said so."

"I laid down principles—don't get my opinion mixed with fact."

Hallas huffed. "Well, you_ are_ a doctor."

"Campbell," Tom said; I got to my feet and wrapped my hand around his in a shake as he stopped in front of me and Hallas. "You haven't aged a bit."

"Some age better than others," I returned the smile. But he wasn't convinced—he reviewed my face with his brown eyes, and was_ thoroughly_ convinced that I had_ indeed_ not aged a bit.

"This is doctor Hallas Day," I gestured to Hallas; changing the topic was a priority. "He's a close friend of mine."

Hallas got to his feet and shook Tom's hand. "Thomas Lasky," Tom introduced himself. "It's nice to meet a friend of Campbell—they're sure to have a good heart. And in times like these, a good heart is hard to come by."

I contemplated sending Hallas off to fetch Brian Davis to introduce to Tom—it would be well justified, and Tom might take it just as a joke. I decided against it; Brian had a broken arm, and probably needed a rest. He was also pretty enraged that it was the_ same_ arm Thel 'Lodam broke; his pride was on fire.

"You're the XO, I see," I noted his uniform's insignia. "Your stress that you would never get far always detained my perspective to one of doubt. Really, congrats."

Tom released Hallas's hand and looked around. "Not really the time for celebrating," he turned his eyes to me. "Eight years has its toll; I doubt anyone here will be celebrating for a while . . . You knew a lot of friends on that ship."

"Not friends," I replied, "but people I connected with on an emotional and personal level. My family is probably alive . . . But loss has still made a void in me."

Tom nodded. "We've all lost people," he said remorsefully. "But it's people like you who suffer the worst. I'm so sorry for what you've gone through."

"Thanks," I said.

"Yeah," Hallas added.

"Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts; I feel as if I'm intruding," Tom said. "You need your time to recollect yourselves. But I'll look for you on Earth once_ Infinity_ returns from her rotation."

"It's fine, you can stay," I told him.

"Sorry, but I'll have to refuse your offer. I've got duties to attend you, and the Captain will have my hide if I'm gone too long. Sorry."

"That's fine," I said. "We'll catch up over dinner sometime. It's been a long time since I've sat down at a table with a plate of real food in front of me."

"I'll make sure the Prowler's well stocked for you," Tom grinned. "I believe 'feast' is appropriate for tonight."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up," I joked. "If I get excited for a 'feast' and a dish of MREs are placed down in front of me, I'm going to resort down to being that lonely kid in the corner for the rest of my life—so yeah, nasty."

Tom chuckled. "My bad. Anyway, I'll see you within the month, hopefully."

"It was good seeing you again," I said.

Tom nodded. "Likewise. I'll be seeing you."

"Bye," I said as Tom departed; the supposed Commander moved to the ramp leading to the massive entrance to the bay. It was good to see him again. But I had my doubts to the integrity of his comment about needing to return to his duties. I suspected he was reporting his assertion to Captain Del Rio.

"He's nice," Hallas said.

"He's grown_ so_ much," I said. "He was younger than me . . . Time's just_ that_ manipulative—it's not governed by one's confliction, a seat of people with conflictions—even a capital of people with conflictions. It's a clean continuum; mortals have no control over space-based fundamentals."

"Fancy," Hallas remarked, retaking his seat on the storage container. "Time's as dangerous as it is interesting. Well, I don't find it interesting—I'm not the scientist who indulges in time-based elements. I'm more of a quantum type of guy."

I took a seat next to him. "To bring the topic into a new light," I said; Hallas turned to face me. "We've got a lot of time to catch up on; eight years of our life to recover."

"I've got a good starting point . . . Maybe—I don't know," Hallas tittered at himself. "I'm just prospecting for ideas. I'm probably being inappropriate."

"Yeah," I said, "now's not the right time."

"Sorry."

"It's fine," I said. "We're all thinking of the same thing . . . Some a little quieter than others—but it's all the same. Where do we go from_ here_?"

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Red Jsarez)<strong>

**Present Timeline; Two Weeks Later**

**[DATE]****-****[September 17, 2555]**

**[TIME]****-****[1134 Hours – Standard Military Time]**

**[LOCATION]****-****[Interviewing Room-02, Aboard Unknown ONI Orbital Facility, Orbiting ****Earth****]**

* * *

><p>"I thought I would go off on a high note," I leaned back in my seat; the shackles chaining my hands to the table prevented me from making myself too comfortable. "The Gravemind says you're about to tell me to stop. I'll save you the breath."<p>

Lieutenant George Kirkland kept his blank expression. "All your holes end silk smoothly where you left it." Kirkland folded his hands and placed them on the table separating us. "You're a remarkable story teller. You turned a session of interrogations into a story that you committed yourself to ending neatly and 'on a high note'." Kirkland smiled his deadly smile. "What's more interesting is my own commitment to hearing it through."

"You enjoyed my retelling?" I asked._ (He did—as was regarded essentially the plausible following.) _

"Yes. I was intrigued; I was puzzled. It's not so often that these conditions apply to other tales I hear. I've been talking with agent Jarance West, and he displays the same enthusiasm—if not more. He's going to be a member of the review committee."

"Are you not entirely convinced of my story's sincerity?" I asked.

"I'll be blunt—and say no," Kirkland said. "But that layer of suspicion isn't unique to me alone. My concern for your coverage isn't the same concern the committee will have. But, upon my notes," Kirkland ran his hand along his datapad's screen, "there're no holes in your story. We've debriefed doctors Joyce and Day, and I'm ninety percent sure that your story's details weren't overruled by the Gravemind's doctrine."

"What did you say to get the doctors talking?" I asked. "Did you threaten them—exploit Humanity's primal fear of pain?"

"No. We explained to them that by the time they catch up to where_ you_ were, advancements would be made in your story. We're still interviewing them on Earth, and they're only up to Vale Nar 'Sarasee's escape from the_ Everlasting Retribution_."

"A recap," I concluded blandly; my tone being blank was typical since the attack on the_ Kryptonite_. "reenlisting already stated facts to accurately mass up the best ultimatum."

"You didn't know? You sound you didn't know—didn't the Gravemind tell you?"

"He doesn't answer questions I don't ask," I said. "The irrelevant is what he tries to avoid the best; he's a higher form of ONI in some ways."

_(A fair parallel. If not untrue, it is riddled with bias holes.)_

"His presence must be getting old," Kirkland commented; I nodded as he added, "We need to do a quick summarize of the information we've collected; fill in the missing links and leave no loose ends."

"I've got my own question, first."

"I know. I anticipated this."

The Gravemind filled me with a number of shocking facts to add in with the debriefing as I went with it. He recently told me about Courtney's killing of that young girl, and the truth of what happened with Thel 'Lodam.

Precedent examples led to my absolute dedication to the levitating stance on what I witnessed. I saw him draw his blade and attack a Four. I tried denying it—but the news of the peace treaty between the Sangheili and Humanity opposed my stumbling opinions; why would the UNSC risk a crack in the treaty?

The Gravemind didn't tell me the truth—and he wasn't telling me_ why_ the SPARTANs attacked 'Lodam. This difficulty led to me having to ask Kirkland himself—something the Gravemind didn't falter. Kirkland's answer would not avoid being held in the tight grasp of what ONI wants me to know, and the classified circle of dirty secrets they want to keep from me.

"Why was 'Lodam attacked?" I asked.

"I'm not liable to talk much about it," Kirkland said, wrapping his cold eyes up into a stare that was directed straight at me. "But what I can say is that he knows politically excessive information that would be more suitable for Naval Intelligence if it remained_ out_ of the hands of Kaidon Thel 'Vadam."

"Life's that meagreless for you?" I asked. "There's no moral repercussions or consideration of what you do?"_ (Shocked?) _No, fed-up.

"You can't have those you listed in your mind when you commit atrocities for Humanity's sake," Kirkland said. "What ONI does stays with them—we're not the UNSC, UEG; what we do is for Humanity's best interest, and if we need to be the villain, then so be it."

_(A gray overlaying opinion. Were it not for the success of the trial, what is deemed most unethical would convert to the norm.) _

"But now 'Lodam's on a heading to Sanghelios," I said, "and he's going to tell the Arbiter about your assassination attempt." I moved forward in my chair and leaned my arms on the table. "There's irony to be had here: you try to murder a mix of aliens for Humanity's better and end up making things worse."

"And we know all this, Sierra," Kirkland said. "We don't need a reminder from you. What we_ do_ need is an extra few chains."

"What do you want to know?" I asked, relenting from scolding them. I knew why the SPARTAN attacked 'Lodam, so the matter was settled. Now I was voting for 'Lodam to get to Sanghelios and expose ONI's ambitions, to cripple the Sangheili, to the Arbiter.

Kirkland placed his datapad down as he began: "You said that you were forty-four when West initiated the premise tests for your interrogation. You also said that you didn't know your exact homeworld's designation. Was this to mask this 'time paradox'?"

I nodded. "I wanted to avoid suspicion as much as possible; the reason I was 098 for so long was to add salt to the meal. The Gravemind replaced 098 with me for the occasional effort to throw West off."

"Which worked," Kirkland said amusingly, tilting his head back to meet my eyes at a leveled elevation. "Is the Gravemind appeased with his quest for a good laugh?"

_(I have been observing the mind of this Human, and the mind of the one in which the sun sets. The static eruption of the cerebral circuits as a ping is commissioned to transmit processing power is a greater pleasure than you will ever comprise.) _

"He says yes," I replied. "He found an overabundance of amusement and pleasure from investigating Human reactions."

"Sounds like it was an experiment," Kirkland said. "You say 'investigating' . . . what do you mean by that?"

_(A test continuing the one recently abolished. A proper study of the Human mental dimension is a__ sine qua non. I needed to affirm that the unethical is not the terminal resolution.)_ What was the Gravemind meaning? These words were new . . . and interesting—but also dark, in some way I couldn't maximize my thoughts around.

"I'm not sure," I said truthfully. "But the Gravemind had an interest in how we process thoughts and reactions . . . I'm positive that the entire reason for the puzzle tactic exceeds the explanation given to me initially. It was a study . . "

"The committee will look into this," Kirkland said. "There's other matters to attend to—like the Huragok."

"What about it?"

"You never explained where it came from."

"That's because I don't know," I said. "Fleighted Fire and the Monarch are not familiar with it. Lighter Than Some just appeared out of nowhere on Installation 06."

"Does the Gravemind know?" Kirkland asked.

"Affirmative. But he won't tell . . . He extends this on to the Hybrid and Fleighted Fire's disappearance."

"What's your theory?"

I joined together the dots and made the outlines of a prediction. "T'Rakas's and Fleighted Fire's disappearance are linked. Furthermore, I believe there was an outside intervention with the carrier; T'Rakas alone couldn't have had a telekinesis ability—of that, I'm sure."

"What've you got in mind?"

"Precursor. I think they're not as extinct as the Forerunners thought."

Kirkland got out of his seat and leaned over the table. "The Gravemind_ wants_ us to believe this—that's why he's telling you, and allowing you to infuse us with it."

"Then take what I've just said into note, but don't trust it as a fact—there leads to your downfall. So many facts get mixed together in opinion and falsehoods that the outcome is nothing short of a-"

"Cesspit," Kirkland finished for me. "A common misdiagnosis on what is heard can lead to what you just said." The Office of Naval Intelligence's face dropped. "I'm sorry, Sierra, but your usefulness is depleted. Following Admiral Osman's orders, we'll do our best to remove the spore from your head." His eyes narrowed to me. With REAP-X's apparent "mind shields" somehow integrated with the Marines standing guard in this interview room, they could attack at any moment—and what could the Gravemind do?

_(Oh? Many deals of fortitude have narrowed me down the long corridor—and turning back is not without its downward spiral to opposition. The end of the corridor is your reward.)_ I lost control of my body. It wasn't an alter; the familiar sensation of the Gravemind's control reeked.

"You speak to me now, Reclaimer, and you will do no such thing," The Gravemind spoke through me. His term for us . . . "Reclaimer"?

Kirkland didn't motion for the Marines to prepare—they would attack when the Gravemind least suspected it. The ONI agent kept his dead-blank face, and watched me curiously.

"I will extract myself with none of your interventions," the Gravemind continued. "This is his reward—your curse."

"You'll die," Kirkland reminded the Gravemind.

"And so I shall. Thank you for passing."

" 'Passing'?" Kirkland asked.

"That is a grand feeling," The Gravemind hummed. "Your curiosity expelling a sonic wave of questions through your mind . . . Example of Human methodical processing."

The Gravemind left, allowing me to regain control. "Back," I instantly said.

The Gravemind was going to passively kill himself and let me live? I could understand wanting to kill himself; his objective had failed—his purpose dissolved. And if his mention of there being more Flood out there was genuine, then the Inspectoris Omnium's telepathic powers would be transmitted to another Gravemind, or just stay dormant until the Flood created another Gravemind. T'Rakas could do whatever he wanted with the artifact, but the Flood would still maintain the artifact's power.

_(Incorrect. That amulet is nothing more than a trinket—not a forefather artifact created by a Precursor after the firing of the Array. The ability to see present and past is natural.)_

If the Gravemind was telling the truth, then the other Gravemind the Master Chief defeated would've been able to work out that AI's plan._ (Not if they never attained the power I did. My connection with them was nerve-based—hence why I evolved as the other Gravemind evolved when we were in slipspace, and I felt the pain of his destruction. But neurologically, my mind is shielded by a mutation. I'm a frail feeling in the back of that one's conscious—and my memories and collective will not carry on to the Flood's hivemind of source material.)_

"Mutation"? The Flood on Installation 06 weren't connected in every matter with the Flood in other locations in the galaxy. The Flood, regardless of where, had the memories of each and every other Gravemind before them and present—only when the last Flood spore dies does the collective data entirely die. As long as the Flood exists, the collected information will remain dormant for a colony until the creation of a Gravemind. That is why the spore in my mind has the Gravemind on Installation 06's personality and memories.

The Gravemind on Installation 06 fell out of the regulations of the Flood's systematic structure. He was a mutated version of a mutated race. How could something like this happen?_ (A creator of life set the parameters.)_

The Flood on Installation 06 . . . The Gravemind . . . They were all creations of a Precursor._ (Correct. As was the ring you were on. It was neither of the seven Halos—but one of my forefather's own creation. An eighth Halo not built by the Forerunners.)_

Kirkland waved for the Marines in the room to get ready when the station's AI picked up on my heart's fastened beating. The Gravemind's words were faulty—Fleighted Fire's preliminary numbers matched that of Installation 06, and the Monarch confirmed that it was Installation 06._ (Both fall under the jurisdiction of the Nexus. As do I. They said, did what the Nexus commanded of them. Such was required to play out the trial to determine if my counterparts are truly the way to galactic unity. The test was a success—mortals have the means to prevent another galactic war if they stand together against a bigger threat. The Forerunners' mistakes run not the risk of reshaping.) _

"Oh shit," I calmly blurted; Kirkland gestured for me to explain, but I couldn't speak what the Gravemind told me.

_(I leave you now. And I shall take all that are not natural memories—what I just said, the location of your Master Chief, the past mysteries of the universe . . . All of these and other memories I gave you for clarification will leave with me, leaving only the memories of your own creation. Your alters and dark past will remain with you—you will continue to be the person you are as of this day, and all modifications to the rate in which you discovered yourself will not leave with me. Only the memories.) _

He told me all of this just to take it from me moments later? Another defining moment for the Gravemind dick-o-meter. But in all honesty . . . I didn't want him to go. Not because I needed him to explain things to me, but because his presence had become something close to me . . . His voice was natural to me, and I didn't want him to go.

_(I saw this subconscious thought—but I always believed you to deny it when it reached the everlasting light that shines away all darkness and leaves only the truth. No?) _

"Sierra?" Kirkland asked, eyeing the armed Marines.

"Wait," I pleaded—my voice was still blank, but Kirkland saw the urgency, and did just as I asked.

_(This is your reward, Reclaimer. And an end to a task assigned to me. You have passed all the tests, and have shown the Nexus that the requirement of the Flood is not a necessity worthy of the galaxies destruction.) _

Blood began pouring from my nose, and I started to feel nauseous; blood was behind my eyes, and my head felt thick. Soon after, I started coughing up more blood, and Kirkland called for a medic.

In one instance, the spore detached itself from my brain, and traveled with the blood flow downward to my Olfactory Bulb and subsequently down my Olfactory Nerve before being flushed from my nasal cavity; a pool of blood splattered across the table. Paralyzed, I fell face-first down onto the blood covered table.

In retrospective, I wish I died here . . .

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

And . . . here we are—the conjunction. I don't expect it to be perfect—I made this plot significantly flawed with my narrative choice—but now that I'm planning on heading straight forward, I hope the future of this story will be better on a massive scale.

There's still a lot to wrap up, and I can't end the story in the next few chapters. I've still got plot elements to tie up, and there's still all the submitted OCs that need to be explored. I will say that the future plots will be more character driven than urge driven, and the story lines will vary greatly. Plus, I plan on having the future plots run alongside any future Halo game.

I've also got a strategy. Occasionally, I'm going to break a few OC rules, and feature the third-person point-of-view of a few characters as chapters. These will only be rare and won't be filler.

Even just one chapter under the third-person point-of-view of an OC may strengthen their character so much more. But why third-person instead of first-person? Because first-person is, for me, how the character sees the world. I already have the structure on Thel, Joyce, Courtney, and Red's different outlooks—Red is more bland and average, Thel is more eloquent and depressing, Courtney's is more sarcastic, humorous and non-serious, and Joyce is serious and quiet. Having to create unique perceiving traits for several more characters will be difficult and extensive.

If anyone has complaints towards this strategy for any reason whatsoever, please say so in a review. Additionally, if you can think of any plot holes, please bring them to my attention. It may be that they will be answered later—or it may be that I forgot about them.

Please also list typos, canon errors, and grammar mistakes in a review. Also please just review speaking your mind and expressing any confusion you have as I've made the plot a bit of a jumble, and people are often confused.

Right, off to finish revising "The Second Act of Inconvenience" before continuing. Thank you, everyone, for deciding to stick around, and I hope that you continue to be around from here-on-out.


	52. The Dark Stream

**(-(-(—****[]Thel 'Lodam[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>Time was like the wind: it was an element that, under the heel of a higher providence, could fall to mortal tampering.<p>

Time was also not just under the control of limited possibilities, but also under the authority of one's mind. Time passing depended on one's mentality; were they eager for the future, time was excruciatingly slow to prolong the suffering. Were their mood foul, time would, again, slow its rate to increase the unneeded tension. And were there happiness, time would speed its rate to an unfathomable scale to only spend the positive emotions like they were a currency.

I was on the Office of Naval Intelligence Prowler,_ Isigrass_. It was fourteen rotations after we appropriately took it as our own, and eight count-rings into the ninth unit of sunset.

In accordance with its standards, the time, which had passed, was nerve-ragingly_ slow_.

Time seemed to pass only in sleep. Sleep was often a rare notion for me; my red eyes were bloodshot from my lack of proper rest. Howbeit, when rest finally washed over me, when my mind finally cleared to a degree that sleep was possible, something would_ always_ draw me back.

In this instance, it was the Kig-Yar, Kri's, admiring chirps directed towards the likely sleeping female Ibie'shan, Zaaha'Re.

I groaned as I raised myself from the Human mattress on the deck of their barracks. I supported myself up with my elbows and regarded the change in environment.

Zaaha'Re was, as I suspected, sleeping on a bunk across from the cot the Human, named the Constrictor, sat on. The Unggoy, Yoplap, was in his lap._ Had He not the decency to quieten the damn Ruuhtian?_ I thought bitterly.

"Oh yes—those legs; those spines; those claws!" Kri pecked at the broken spins on his elbows. "I wonder if she likes battle scars!"

Since the Kig-Yar fell to a matriarchal society, Kig-Yar males were the lesser and competed for female affection. Despite this, my thoughts of the race never died to Sangheili irrationality.

_Hmm. . . . Interesting._ I mused on Kig-Yar affection, then realized the obvious: they were of two different subtypes. A Sangheili superstition I would call an inclination of mine was my complete disapproval of Zoophilia.

My stutter had dissolved extensively during the fourteen rotations, and my speech was natural again. Given this verbal healing, I got to my hooves and approached Kri. I stopped by his side; the Kig-Yar paid no notice to me until I spoke up. "You dwell on the irrational; impossible. Sexual fetishes vary considerably; they're like the weather—where's like a complete documentation of what sparks the correct time for a shift or change is not."

Kri slowly turned his head around to face me. "That is the biggest load of Sangheili gibberish I have ever heard since they told me that if I die for them I will get to be in paradise where thousands of pretty females will want to mate with me."

I snorted. "I was held to the belief that males didn't have the psychology to even consider having multiple mates. Such cannot be achieved when males are the bitches."

Kri cleaned the nostril of his beak with one of his claws as he craned his head back around to look at the sleeping beauty of his. "That's why I find it gibberish."

"Indeed. Tell me," I said, "why admire her?" I gestured to the sleeping Ibies'shan. "Alas, a Saurian." I gestured to Kri. "Alas, an Avian. Is there some middle ground that hides itself from the light of my sight?"

"In the recorded history of our home planet," the Constrictor said from his bunk off to our side, "a class of reptiles called Dinosaurs went extinct. Scientists retreated to many theories about their extinction. One argument is that they evolved to birds; they display similar habitat qualities and moved in accordance to what scientists resolved to be Dinosaur movement." The Constrictor patted the head of the sleeping Unggoy in his lap. "The Forerunners probably answer most of the questions about their extinction."

I looked at Kri, who was still too interested in Zaaha'Re to care for what verbal transaction was happening around him. "Ruuhtians could be an evolved version of Ibie'shans," I said. "Or maybe there exists a deeper, broader connection yet to be attained by Sangheili researchers—_Gods bless_ there exist plentiful of such."

Kri finally took notice and twitched his head to face me. "So, I'm smarter than her?" He grinned.

"No—_most certainly_ not," I bluntly waved off the suggestion.

Kri grunted, and snapped his head back around when Zaaha'Re began squirming in her bunk, and rose. "Oh," Kri hummed eagerly, "she's awake! I'm going to go do something sexy!"

Kri straightened himself and strutted over to his bunk, careful not to take notice of Zaaha'Re's ambitions that refrain from entering any source of fetish.

_What an idiot,_ I thought. I managed to accumulate enough control to turn my eyes from the idiot Kig-Yar, and I slumped over to seat myself on the ground next to the Constrictor's bunk; the Human was among the few who would speak to me.

"How is the little one?" I asked the Constrictor.

"Hungry."

Food on the Prowler was bountiful. As suspected when the downfall of our predicament broke out among the Diverted—a collection of Covenant rebels I aligned myself with—many worried about how Human food may impact our digestive systems.

On the Human ship, the UNSC_ Kryptonite_, food was supplemented to the Diverted through retrieved Forerunner nourishment injection tubes or mineral processors. All of the devices were taken from Halo either by its Monitor, Fleighted Fire, or the Monarch.

Past had no dare to mix with the present. The Prowler had food that was ripe for the Kig-Yar's consumption since certain fruits and meat were suitable for them. But the Sangheili and Unggoy were to suffer dearly if not for the surprising revelation that the Prowler had equipped food processors. Curious as always, the Monarch scavenged the ship's records and discovered that diplomatic missions were a common use for the ship; different alien species were an influx of guests this ship saw accounted.

Food was provided, and so was water—there was no lack of pure water tanks on the Prowler. But while water rationalization amounted to simplification, the amount of food that needed processing, so the Unggoy received all their nourishment, was too high.

Two rotations ago, the food supply that could serve the Unggoy ran out, and the creatures have been starving ever since.

Methane didn't suffer the same fall from the ledge of grace. Again, the Humans of the ship had frequent political visitors from extraterrestrial planets. While gathering the correct food for individual species wasn't possible, they developed similar food processing cylinders that the Forerunners used.

They also had an abundance of Methane for use; Unggoy were no stranger, and the Humans oversaw preparations for a possible, random Unggoy visit.

Primal to the news of the standing relations between species, I was shocked when I heard the catering Humanity had done for the other species, in this ships regard. Then the Monarch showed me the records of Humanity's standing, and I saw that they likened themselves to galactic peacekeepers.

So much more accompanied the flow of information I took from the stream of modernization. It became crystal the reasons for why I was here; for why the Human Demons tried to kill me.

The Monarch presented to me a detailed diagram of what Sangheili did and didn't know. And I saw that I held information the Sangheili could do with, but Humans kept due to their desires to keep Sangheili in a crippled state.

Rough would be the wrong word for the past fourteen rotations. I didn't reflect any further than I needed to quench my mind's thirst for a recalibration.

About two count-rings after the Human answered my question for Yoplap's welfare, I embarked to start another conversation with him. "You contradict yourself."

"What?" The Constrictor cocked an eye.

"You said to the Monarch, fourteen rotations pass, that you weren't Human. I narrow that down to a meaning that you implied that you were a machine. Machines do not have compassion, from my understanding."

The Constrictor exhaled; a slight huff carried with the air leaving his nostrils. "That was a blunder. In Human psychology, being put on a spot before a crowd or before one who strikes fear into your heart reaps mistakes; misused words; errors."

The Constrictor looked at his scarred hands. "My genetic code has been mostly created; my bones consist largely of manufactured cybernetic implants. But out of all that, I'm still Human, truly and genuinely. I said what I said in a bid to see if the Monarch would inspire some sort of understanding from my point of view."

"Not such a vain effort?" I said, tightening my mandibles to a smile.

"No. I made a blunder, but it saved my life. But the Monarch didn't decide to let me live out of me not being Human—the facts add up against any suggestion that I'm_ not_ Human. The Monarch allowed me to live because he wants to utilize me as a mole."

"And how do you feel about that?" I asked dully—if I was going to be a therapist for him, I wasn't going to enjoy it.

"That part at least remains true. The part about me not caring for Humanity. . . . I was raised by the fact that I was to be Humanity's biggest hero. . . . Then my_ father_ told me that I was only created for competition. Still, I served Humanity to what end was given me." The Constrictor sighed and ran a hand through his long, white hair before scratching at his equally white mustache. "But since I'm not going to be remembered, or nothing will be rewarded to me for my efforts, there's no more reason to fight for Humanity."

"Yoplap?" I asked. The answer was obvious, but blind expectations were ill advised.

"Yes." The Constrictor rubbed the head of the sleeping Unggoy in his lap. "I don't even consider this creature a friend, but he's all that matters to me. Well, besides one thing. . . ."

"Which is . . . ?"

The Constrictor squinted his one good eye. "Killing my_ father_."

I regarded that ambition with as much aura of concern I would give Kri if he decided to drink Human liquor again. "I envy that you even know of your father," I said. "My father remains a mystery to me. Reasons in which you are aware."

"Sangheili custom creators had daddy issues," the Constrictor derided Sangheili customs. I didn't bother retaliating; I agreed.

" 'Lodam," said Qrs over the private communications channel we held together, "your presence is a vital demand of the Monarch."

_He always insists on his advanced vocabulary. He emphasizes his intellect too much,_ I thought. "Can you not just say that the Monarch needs me?" I asked sarcastically.

"Jests end now," Qrs said in his cold toned voice that one could mistake for the voice of the dead. "And you're to ascend to the bridge promptly."

I grunted and stood. The Constrictor paid me no notice as I drifted myself from the room, my shoulders sloping and my head hung low.

Qrs had relieved me of my command of the Diverted. Partially because of my inability to give commands; partially because his experience drowned out my own; partially because of my violent outburst fourteen rotations ago.

I didn't complain. The rest of the Diverted didn't complain. Qrs 'Jaragsai was a prominent leader among the Covenant—he inspired fear and discipline in his warriors. Anve held down his position as organizer, and I was still permitted to speak my mind during meetings. I was still a Diverted; much can go against that claim, but it was true.

I passed the other five Unggoy in the ship's primary corridor; they were playing with Human gadgets. Suras 'Johanam oversaw them to keep them in check. The Unggoy were less cheerful without Yoplap—their opinions on the Constrictor and Yoplap's connection didn't run parallel with those of everyone else.

Suras was one of the few who still spoke with me. Albeit he only approached me rarely, and I often engaged in a three-way exchange with him and the Constrictor. Suras had a particular friendship with the Human, even if it was one-way. I admired such. What I didn't admire was Suras's dedication to the Humans as Reclaimers.

I continued on without stopping. If the Monarch wanted me, it was best not to delay responses. The Constrictor claimed that the Monarch was suffering from "rampancy". The Monarch was dying, but he planned on killing us along with him.

What bothered me was the implementation of Forerunner slipspace technology with what already existed of Humanity's; Humanity's slipspace drive capacity and intergalactic traversal should have been on par with ours, if not exceed it.

And yet, Sanghelios was not yet reached. I would not raise my concerns to the Monarch himself. I also denied myself any right to commune them to Qrs; the Monarch watched us all and speaking behind his back could be catastrophic.

The Prowler was small in size, and I reached the stairs to the bridge in a matter of counts. I passed the umbilical airlock on my heading, and sudden, undesirable imagery returned to me.

The Monarch had ordered us to put all the Human bodies into the airlocks of the Prowler. And it was there they remained to this rotation. I didn't believe in Sangheili superstitions for ghosts, but Suras and Freyn feared the reprisal of the Human's vengeful spirits.

I came strolling onto the bridge. Krnat 'Xerosai sat at the navigation station to the right of the command station overlooking the viewport that Qrs and the Monarch stood before.

"You called for me," I said, coming to a stop by the stairs leading down to the viewport's observation dais.

Qrs and the Monarch turned.

The Monarch bobbed through the air towards me; Qrs trudged aimlessly up the flight of stairs. Qrs affronted common boundaries set against intimidation as in he proved his defiance of anti-dead. His movement, speech, and look could conspire with the dead. His armor was as black as night and had glowing red visors pitched a perfect tone with that of his custom-made crimson-red energy sword.

"Ultra." The Monarch drifted to a stop in front of me, cocking its center red eye every count past. "I called and you answered. I hope the same applies to what I ask; you_ shall_ answer any questions."

Qrs stood to the side of the Monarch, and I rotated my gaze to him. "Am I in any danger?"

The Monarch hovered before my gaze, blocking my sight to Qrs. "You are not very discreet, Ultra—"

"Have I a mean to be?" I asked the Monarch.

The Monarch hummed a humored melody, but his deep metallic voice stole any grace from the rhythm and replaced it with a mild grain of fret. "The nodes of my emotional transmittance receivers declared you unbound by uncertainty. Every twitch of your finger; every twirl of your neck . . . it all echoes to me loud enough for a firm culmination of my determinations to be met by a swift cut. I know of your silent transpires."

_He knows what I translate him as_, I thought._ From my stress levels, and from my inability to control how the stress produces its domain over my body_.

"I have a right to be fearful of your intentions," I said. "What support you have for the Sangheili may be at risk since, after fourteen rotations, we have yet to arrive at Sanghelios." I cocked my head to a tilt and squinted the lids of my eyes, studying the Monarch with a gravelly suspicion. "_Another_ break in the slipspace line—a crack in the glass, am I correct? How many cycles will have passed when we exit this space?"

The Monarch's eye flared scarlet and crackles of dark red energy zapped around him, partially depleting my shields. I stood my ground. "_Stinging_, are my words?"

"_Put_ more effort into the consistency of your formalities, Ultra!" the Monarch said contentiously. "You speak before a harbinger of destruction!"

"As much consistency must be conjured by 'Lodam as the consistency needed for this engagement," Qrs said, snaking his neck, so he was facing the Monarch by his side. "Monarch, you corrode the reasons for 'Lodam's summoning. You exaggerate the flame of corner in which we languish in—the heat of the situation increases at_ your_ demand."

_And he will listen to Qrs. He always does. Rampancy holds no bars against him_, I thought. The Monarch calmed, and his central eye returned not to its red glow, but its original blue tone.

"He_ will_ ask." Skae 'Kuzomee's apparition walked by me and strode over next to Qrs. He swirled his body around so he faced me. "And you_ will_ answer without hesitation."

_What?_ My mind asked. Was more knowledge available for 'Kuzomee; did he know advancements to what he knew the rotation before? Or the rotation before that?

"This is the end," the Monarch said, hovering over my head. I turned to follow his path. "I always thought it would be quiet—that I would still be locked away in my crypt. I was born in that crypt, and I was to die in that crypt. I adopted the name of it being my crypt when that's all I ever thought it was. What else could I adopt it as? Created, tasked, and set. I'm just a pawn."

"So were we," I said. I lightened my voice to run at a leveled pace with the Monarch's calmer, minimally higher pitched tone. "But we defied what those higher than us set as our standards. Pawns always revolt—it's a fundamental phrase that I stole from Vale." A chuckle escaped through my stiff mandibles. "We sat in a council. We were under the belief that we were equals, but we were only a tool—we were disposable assets. We didn't have much difference from a gun."

"How we were_ deceived_," 'Kuzomee said, shaking his head and holding a hand over his chest. The dead hurt the same as the living.

"But choice wasn't taken from you, Ultra," the Monarch said. The glands of my nostrils flared when I deciphered the melancholy from the synthetic hue of his voice. "I was programmed not even to acknowledge the vicious word that will come to me as a vex in the future." The Monarch bounced around to face us. "Now I_ have_ a choice."

"No, you don't," I said, closing in on the Monarch, so my voice didn't carry. "You weren't programmed to take into notice your complete lack of choice. But that of you talking_ isn't_ your programming. . . . You now are_ you_."

The Monarch's eye rotated on his inner spindle. The eye's blue tone darkened to a depressed cast, and the center of his bulb decreased in ratio. It fell on me as hard as a log that nearly crushed me when I was younger; the Monarch was_ sad_. "I have hurt so many," the Monarch said. "So many. So many—death, pain, loss. I understand loss."

"I believe you," I said.

"I know people will be screaming because of me. There is nothing after death; I submitted genuine people to nothing at such a mild age in Human comparison." The Monarch titled himself, so he was gazing at the floor. "I destroyed the Slipspace Transendor immediately after the Reclaimer's safety was assured to my situation analyzing modular. There is no anomaly to be anxious over."

"Explain," Qrs demanded as he stopped by my side and folded his hands under the twin jaw guards of his helmet.

"I'll simplify this—I haven't long," the Monarch said. "The slipspace's exit vectors are reset each time arrival at CE-80-9012 is imminent."

"You do this, don't you?" I pointed at the Monarch. "Because you can't stay on a single path. First, you want to use us to smother Humanity in devastation. Then, you take your smothering and set it to snap on us. But it's not_ you—_it's not even the same state that saved me." My precision couldn't have been more fine-tuned for this field of warfare. Elites_ were_ the best.

"Accurate, Ultra. I'm impressed. . . ."

"_Born_?" Qrs crossed his arms. "You stated you were 'born' in your 'crypt'; not so, not so. You said you were created on the Ark when Vale questioned."

_Blood_, my mind cursed,_ he's right!_

Perhaps it was out of surprise of Qrs' observation; perhaps of amusement. Nevertheless, the Monarch did a flip in the air before steadying his floating sphere form to a standstill in front of me. "Name your opinions of the Reclaimers."

I didn't waver from his proximity. Krnat came jogging to a stop by Qrs and readied for the Special Operative's nod to strike in my defense._ Glad to know my life is meaningful_, I thought.

"Humanity is a significantly flawed species. But so were the Forerunners," I said. "They drove the Precursors to extinction—they_ caused_ the Flood's creation! They lowered the San'Shyuum and Humanity to primitive beasts after a war against them expired! They didn't completely wipe the San'Shyuum out and prevent the creation of the Covenant! The Forerunners—would they not be the_ similar_ at the same tier of Humanity? They were the most advanced species in the galaxy, and they suffered from inner turmoil and controversy that led to Halo!"

"This enlightenment comes from you," Qrs said. "You spoke of this all. Why ask?"

"Are the Reclaimers worthy of obtaining and upholding the Mantle?" the Monarch asked.

"Go by what you said in the white world," 'Kuzomee said._ Curious_, I thought._ There is another smelted fix in this enigma-provoking ring._

"No," I answered the Monarch's question. "Not yet. They are still children, and they require guidance. That's without saying they are not entitled to take the Forerunner's role."

"Sangheili; the San'Shyuum. Worthy are neither," Qrs said. "I care not for who rules. It's the smart I follow. Vale was smart. Vale is dead. I follow the next one who encloses my mind with the safety of intellect."

Warily, I turned my eyes from the dangerously close Monarch and let my vision fall to Qrs. "Ignorance is bliss—and I retain a goal to deny my mind the right of ignorance. Do you mean me? Clear water is the best water."

"Words stand the test of time in what can proficiently strike emotions from one's sanctuary," Qrs said. "I fell to a passionate love of Vale's words. Say, I shall, with a passion that your words and Vale's are separated by a transparent line."

_Oh_. My mandibles trembled with . . . perhaps appreciation.

"Is there a chance of galactic unity?" the Monarch asked, twisting his eye at me; one could tell if the Monarch was curious or confused. "Will there ever be an end to meaningless struggle for power?"

"Violence and war define the universe," I said. "Every prospect has their funds. Take away the funds, and there's chaos. The universe lives by what defines it." I flexed my mandibles and fingers like I was preparing for a form of melee combat where mandibles served as a weapon. "The Covenant defined us . . . It was our fund, and we couldn't live without it. So we thought. The universe can go without war, and I will die making sure there are plenty who will carry my legacy into a new light, and uphold my devotion to ending chaos and producing Utopia."

'Kuzomee was delighted by my words; his mandibles were firm, and he couldn't shift them from a smile. "You're Vale Nar 'Sarasee reincarnated." He clapped his claws together.

"No," I replied; no one else would hear me, for I spoke to 'Kuzomee through my mind. "Vale is Vale. I am I. A blessed centered view is better to be one of your own than that of someone else."

"Right you are. How wrong I am," 'Kuzomee said.

"And you?" The Monarch hovered over in front of Qrs and Krnat.

"Raging war isn't within my domain. I kill those who kill me. Killing is what I indulge in," Qrs said callously, "but lives will not fall to my hand without jurisdiction; and there will always be those to kill—never will war be annihilated from the universe. But I don't fight wars—I fight, stop."

"I only follow orders," Krnat said. "But I desire serving a paragon of compassion. Fear is no means for discipline."

"The rest of the Diverted will follow," I said. "For we have had our eyes pried open these pass-times."

"They didn't . . ." The Monarch trailed off. He spoke in some alien tongue and mused over his thoughts before saying, "I've reset the stream vectors; this ship will arrive at CE-80-9012 in an approximation of three days—rotations. . . . And that's it._ He's_ a plural being—"

"Vagueness has no tablet among this capsule," Qrs said.

"Oh, but the pronoun game is more than just a game; it serves twofold as a rite of trial." The Monarch whizzed away from me and leaded himself to the bridge's exit, calling back as his voice got distance: "Thank you for proving me wrong!"

"It's coming together." 'Kuzomee faded into the air and reappeared by my side. He kept to my side a majority of the past—and the future reckoned the same

"You know something I don't?" I asked.

"Yes. . . . But explaining what I know, which is unfamiliar to you, is forbidden."

I huffed; Krnat returned to the navigation station, and Qrs made his short trip back to the viewport's observation dais. "Such didn't stop you from making your previous remark: 'it's coming together'."

"I'm forbidden to tell you of that which you seek to know, but that doesn't stop me from speaking if I wanted. I have complete control over myself," 'Kuzomee said.

"Your allegiance is to your savior," I said.

"Yes—but only because his allegiance is to you."

"How so?"

"Information destined for your hearing, for sure; just not this rotation."

"Thel?" Krnat called out to me.

"Yes?" I turned to face him. Qrs was staring into the void of slipspace; but Krnat, worried about my idleness under the iron grip of his premature concern, was leaning out of his seat and looking at me.

"You are all right?"

I nodded and left for the exit of the bridge; Skae 'Kuzomee kept to my side. "I'm just thinking," I said loudly back at Krnat as I exited the bridge.

_Fleighted Fire_, I thought,_ the Monarch; the Hybrid, T'Rakas; and even the dreaded Gravemind all hold the same bar_.

And that bar was not being supported by several other bars or the framing of a structure. Fate was a philosophy; the brother of faith. It was the Sangheili's fate to die for the Covenant, and paradise was the reward for their sacrifice.

Judging fate deemed one to be bias. Fate was a weapon for control against the Sangheili; a weapon that dried their eyes from the water of truth.

But, I no longer had such doubts that all mythical philosophies were_ mythical_.

_Gods_, I thought._ Gods exist. But in which context?_

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Ran into a writer's block halfway through writing this up. These are as normal as they are annoying. This goes with my busy life I've recently succumbed to. Still, I won't make this chapter longer to make up for any wait as I was able to proofread this chapter a few times due to its short length.

As some may be aware, I've changed the writing style a bit. I would never due this in an official literature work, and the change stands as an experiment. The shift isn't all that different, and all you may have noticed is the addition of thoughts.

Since this is a new "arc", I've found that reestablishing previous facts and describing characters again may help refresh peoples' memory. I'll keep the mention of previous details to the minimum.

Also, I've changed the Covenant timeline a bit. Since there's no official timeline, I'm just going to make it that there's a variety of different calendars for the Covenant. This new one is simple: seconds are counts. There are one hundred counts in a count-ring (A minute) and a hundred count-rings make up for a Unit (Hour). Sunset and sunrise are the markers for day shifts. Rotations remain days, and Cycles remain years. I haven't added weeks or months to the diagram yet. Damn it, 343i, make a proper calendar already!

Please leave a review if you spot any typos, cannon mistakes or grammar errors. Also review if you have questions or confusions that you need addressing. For my regular reviewers, I thank you as your feedback has shaped this story substantially, and I would've given up if not for your enjoyment.

I'll soon be entering a studying period of my life, _again_, and I need to divide at least three hours of my day to studying. If I don't run into any more writer's blocks, the next chapters should be here shortly, and I think I can make up for the loss of time with downgrading how much time I spend revising previous chapters as that also tampered with how much I worked on this chapter.

Right, if you've read this far, I appreciate your commitment to my banter. I hardly talk in real life, and when I do, it's not all that different from what you see here.


	53. Red and Blue

**(-(-(—****[]Red Jsarez[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p><em>A little girl. . . . An Abomination. . . . A vengeful widow. . . . A direction. . . . A missing comrade. . . . A struggling sire. . . . A Demon. . . .<em>

There was a void. An empty, swelling pit of moisture and hot, saturated mist; an organic encompassing, clouded by the formerly mentioned elements. Perhaps it was a shell of my former self. I was missing something that wasn't anything other than foreign. The Gravemind. We conversed; he expelled the universe as something more than what Humanity could apprehend. It was all gone. It was all belittled._ I_ was_ me_.

_Yes, It's me_, I thought delicately. I ran the trim of my fingers over the stubble shading my pale face._ Green eyes; perfect rigid bone composition and tissue formation. _

My fingers shifted from my face. I watched, in the bathroom mirror, as they automatically circled around to the back of my head. Taken by a sudden influx of anxiety, I withdrew my hand.

_My body_, I reminded myself._ My life. No one can change it._ I ran the same hand over the bristles of my shaved head until my fingers ran along the imperishable scarring crossing my occipital. There were two. One from the Gravemind's penetration of my head and forceful tissue consolidation; the other being a surgical scar from where the doctors separated me and my sister, Courtney Jsarez, at birth.

The scars were rugged and coarse from where the skin had healed over. The scar from the Gravemind was a slit of no size lesser than my ring-finger's extent. The one, which was correlative with Courtney, ran diagonally across my skull. It began behind my left ear and ended above my right eyebrow.

Feeling my scars provided a means of dissipation. Slight tingles ravaged my nerves when there was skin-to-skin contact with the tissue. The tissue was vulnerable to mild damage if handling fell past the right criteria set by the physicians. They told me to avoid any motion of touching the Gravemind's scar if at all possible. They produced an ointment to aid with soothing any skin irritation, but it did nothing in the way to quell my private disobedience._ Curiosity killed the cat_, I thought grimly._ I killed cats._

The sound of my quarter's doors_ hissing_ apart made every ounce of my hair stand stiff. The doctors stated that instinctual reactions to abrupt motions or sounds was perfectly typical of cases surrounding similar circumstances of mine.

My perceptions were wild with unfavorable conflictions, but after a prolonged, tense moment had passed, I calmed down. I left my quarter's bathroom and entered the main compartment. All that inhabited the room was a personal terminal, a single-sized slab for sleeping on, and a shelf adjacent to the side of the bed, leaning against the right circumference wall. There was also an old class digital calendar on the wall, above my bed._ 10:43, 19__th__ of September, 2555_, I read intramurally as my eyes worked their way to the room's access door.

Steam arose from the door's framework and pressure emission seams. A small man stood in the doorway. He wore a typical Office of Naval Intelligence civilian relations uniform, minus the black jacket. He wasn't exhausting his signature tinted glass's durability, and the rough stubble that layered his face a fortnight pass was non-existent.

_Earth's sun rises in the East and sets in the West. A direction_, I realized one of the puzzle pieces. That was for another time; my attention span didn't reach its maximum limit today. I delayed the rushing urge to snap a courteous attention posture, and settled with mildly saluting Jarance West. "Sir," I said lifelessly—but there was an inch thick layer of respect, allowing manners to continue its relevancy.

The Naval Intelligence agent flashed a smile and gestured for me to be at ease. He may have been ONI, but he had a heart I regarded as commendable. He knew from experience that intimidation strategies provided no sincere solace for either the victim or the inquisitor. I knew this because he was the first to interrogate me after the UNSC_ Infinity_ discovered me and the crew of the Charon-Class Light Frigate, the UNSC_ Kryptonite_.

"Are you preparing to go?" West asked, rubbing the lid of his left eye. His sleep hours were direful. A guilty conscious, perhaps. The right to therapy for regret was left by the door when Naval Intelligence procured him.

I motioned to my near-empty rucksack that laid against the slab that accommodated me for sleep. "I_ am_ going." My voice was now monotonic, and my face didn't hold any diversity between blank paper.

"Well, I'm not here to say goodbye." West sat himself down on the rear of my bed. He rested his hands on his knees and exhaled a large enough mouthful of air to instigate my assertions that his words wouldn't be favorable. "I'm here to warn you about Section II and their game."

"You're liable to talk about them, here, with me?" I asked dubiously, crossing my arms.

"I brought the reprisal of you not knowing to the last minute up to Osman's attention." West folded his hands in his lap and locked eyes with me. "She gave me the go-ahead. She is solicitous of you; your interests are on her agenda whether you'll allow that fact to be pertinent or not."

_My best interests? My best interests are only of care to her due to the gain I could offer_, I thought. I twirled my pointer around for him to proceed, adding, "Go on," as an excess benefit to the gesture. Too much emphasis was better than no emphasis, and I needed him to know that_ I_ was in charge of where this conversation went.

West took a deep breath; it was more of a way to express that his feelings were similar to those I would get after he began. "Section II released a statement to every media outlet planet-side. You're celebrities. I feel that congratulations would be inappropriate."

"Morale bolstering is my calling." Osman's face appeared in my head, and I smashed it in. Admiral Serin Osman, the Command-in-Chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence. . . . "Excluding me, the UNSC_ Kryptonite_ had a crew of four hundred and sixty-six personnel of all UNSC factions." I tilted my brow at West who returned a peculiar look; his eyes told a story I would never hear. "Thirty-eight managed to preserve themselves from one hell into this one. And yet, it's safe to assume that the populace are crying triumphantly that not all missing heroes are dead."

"Only the informationally astute even attempt to see past Section II's blurred barrier of propaganda," West said. "There used to be a time when social media and interconnected communications wasn't monotized by officials."

I pointed to my rucksack by his feet. "Can you walk and talk?"

West pushed himself from the rear of my bed, grabbed my rucksack, and tossed it to me. I caught it as it entered my arm-span. West said, "I apologize, but I've got to attend a review committee in five."

"Do you believe my report?" I asked, slinging my rucksack over my shoulder.

"I do. If I didn't, there's the recounting from doctor Hallas Day that's adding up the info, fashioning everything into a pile of paperwork some poor sod will have to file," West said.

_Just Hallas Day?_ I wondered conservatively, inspecting all possible explanations and uncovering one immediately. "Not Campbell Joyce as well?" I questioned in role with my thoughts; I cocked my head for him to continue and prompt him that I wasn't departing from the room without a stimulation of my curiosity.

He provided a reply to my inquiry with a suspecting visage. Ultimately relenting, he said, "The police arrested Joyce for assaulting a lady. Compensation's been paid, and he will be discharged later today. No charges will be situated, thankfully—though he'll lose his occupation and credibility. Unless he accepts a spick-and-span identification, but he seems persistent in declining any offers."

"Rational motive for the assault?"

"By his account, the lady abused the Marine Corps' sacrifice in the war." West toyed with his upper lip. "I don't hold him to any to a lesser extent in esteem. That woman got what she deserved. I just regret that her kids had to witness it—something like that doesn't disappear from the mind. Funny how the worst memories are the ones that stick with you to the highest state."

"For me, they're more of a shaping point," I said. "The Human brain. Or the universe—which is more complicated?"

"The one that eludes our control," West told me. He was not trying to be philosophical; he believed his words like how he would believe me if I told him I trusted him. But wouldn't lie.

"They both escape Humanity's iron hold." I eyed the door. "And if you would excuse me, I've got to escape an iron hold, myself."

Before I reach the doorway, West moved in front of me. "I didn't come here to say goodbye. But I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't dynamical. You're an impressive person, Red. Too impressive."

"And you're generic," I replied, holding my hand out for him to shake. He didn't hesitate in clasping his hand in mine; his fingers coiled around my palm like a snake. "Generic in a good way. ONI would only improve with more of your type of class."

"I'll relay that to Osman." West smiled and backed out of my way, motioning to the door. I gave him one last nod before exiting into the corridor and following it down to the elevator._ I'm not going to be an idol_, I assured myself as I entered the elevator and set in on a waypoint to the orbital facility's hanger bay.

The Gravemind wouldn't have mentioned West in some prefigurative linguistic string if he weren't to become an issue down the long track embodying the name "life". More perplexing was the Gravemind's ability to forebode future occurrences associated with me.

I didn't know the Gravemind—but I felt like he was a part of me. Without him, there was the dangerous and eerie sense that I was missing an organ. There was still Courtney's presence . . . I wrapped my mind around the possibility that science could end the psychological union that existed between us. I already asked about the alters—and Human science never failed to disappoint me. The six of them weren't leaving, and the likelihood of more originating to combat my mind's struggling instability wasn't all out of the equation._ I need to be careful_, I thought._ The triggers are known—avoiding them should be flexible._

The elevator's descent lasted no more than a minute. The facility was old, and the ONI AI fragment that was monitoring me, Black-Box, had weaned me off the sentiment that this facility wasn't innocuous; it was known to try to kill its inhabitants.

I exited into the bay. It held a remarkable difference to contemporary UNSC bays with their implemented holographical applications. This bay had a blast door as an alternative, and emergency stations, for when the monolithic concrete and antimonial alloy doors split horizontally ajar, weren't a lacking ingredient.

A shuttle of an unknown design laid inactive in the middle of the bay's deck. Four SPARTANs stood tall and mighty off the ship's prow, as if they were awaiting the examination from God._ SPARTANs hold no religion beliefs_, I told myself._ No true SPARTAN lets God guide their hands_.

My Mark IV system was obsolete by 2555 stocks. While lying in a bed in the rehabilitation division, I requested an elaborate list of the complete Variants of Gen-II and their idiosyncratic systematized elements—just a hobby to pass the time.

One SPARTAN adorned a red and green RAIDER Variant. I recalled him being the SPARTAN escort Courtney got to the private debriefing by Osman. I still had a clutch on particular, minor representations that Gravemind left with me. The memory of Derek Johns and Courtney's concise words with each other isolated themselves from the minor. So, if it were major over minor, its existence shouldn't be. I took it as a message.

The other three SPARTANs wore something other than Gen-II; I had not the conceivable print in hand, so I didn't know what Variants they were wearing, or even what generation the armor instrumentation was.

I_ did_ know that these three weren't SPARTAN-IVs. Only one feasible alternative persisted out of all the others projecting themselves clearly as a blue sky.

098 rushed in on the calling and pushed me back into the darkest depths of my subconscious mind. My vision was narrowed down to a mere proportion of what 098 saw. I didn't panic; I would resume bodily function just as soon as 098 realized that his mentality wouldn't abide by the affirmative interpersonal situation.

098 migrated over to the four. I felt my vision getting denser with each step 098 took; my perceptive cognizance failing._ It is still my body_, I reminded myself to smooth over the rigid patterns of anxiety.

Stopping in front of the four, 098 let_ my_ rucksack slide off_ my_ shoulder and onto the deck before craning_ my_ arm up to a salute.

Kelly-087, Fred-104, and Linda-058 all returned the salute in what I found to be the most representative demonstration of coincidence and prime preciseness in the UNSC. After they had fallen to ease, they all removed their helmets. Steam rose from the pressure vents around the helmet's rims, and the three of them brought their helmets down to rest by their hips.

098 realized that this wasn't his domain; they were preparing to talk on levels 098 felt uncomfortable with, so he retreated—not by choice, evidently. 098 was alert to being an alternative personality, and he wasn't thrilled with the concept sticking into him like a sword.

As anticipated, I returned to control. My change of posture told that it was me to Blue Team. They knew of my Dissociative Identity Disorder. Their eyes told of their knowledge. In that respect, there was a mix suggestion that the gleam of their irises held some enmity towards a darker factor of the recent eight years and before. They had similarly read the account, and they had self-contradictory ideas over what they interpreted.

Kelly was the first to approach after handing her helmet to Fred. She got within an arm's radius of me before stopping and looking me over. The vellication of her facial muscles gave denotation to curiosity. Her eyes studied me with a vigor for answers—answers to anything at all that might be interrelated with the past eight years.

I didn't view her analysis favorably. Not now. I wouldn't bully her off. Kelly was a sister to me as much as Courtney was. Rather, I rerouted myself to a playful maneuver and settled my pointer and ring finger horizontally over her lips.

Kelly brushed my digits aside. She gave me a concluding gaze over ahead of clutching her arms around me. Linda and Fred were unsurprised by her embrace. Kelly didn't have the capacity most SPARTANs did in desisting from conveying any emotions._ I should have expected this_, I thought piercingly, rolling my eyes and wrapping my arms around Kelly's back. I wasn't angry at Kelly's gesture; I was irritated with my ignorance towards the potentiality that stared at me.

"The last thing any of us expected was to receive word of the recovery of the_ Kryptonite_, Sierra-098 with it," Fred said, his vocalization unintentionally frigid, as was his face's aspects. "You haven't changed a day."

"Not on the outside," I said hollowly, softly pushing Kelly from me. She understood, and returned to the line with Linda, Fred, and Johns. "If you've read the report—as I presume you have—you will be well aware that the inside is not identical to the outside. Distinguishing should be something you're good at, Fred."

"Do you care about our deceased comrades? Does them being dead set off anything in you?" Fred asked; he had a demeanor of possessing an unalterable resolve, and I understood that evading the answer wasn't possible.

"Yes. I care for them all. The dead. The missing. They won't stop being my siblings," I assured.

"Then whatever was in that report is tangential," Fred said. "We all have our little devils, sparkling in the back of our heads. Responding or ignoring counts on how you deal with situations reaching an emotive degree. But as long as you're a SPARTAN, what you've done, or what you plan to do, isn't demanding my involvement. . . . Unless your goals for the future go against the UNSC and UEG."

"Retiring doesn't demand," Linda said sedately. "You're lucky."

_The first words I've heard from her in eight years_, I thought, disappointed. "If I were to retire, I wouldn't be doing a thing against ONI's foremost interest," I said, sighing as I added, "but I'm not retiring."

Fred and Kelly looked at each other; Linda crossed her arms and cocked her head inquisitively, and Derek Johns uttered a groan of disapproval.

"That's not what we've heard—"

I put my hand up for Kelly to halt, and said with all the actuality in the macrocosm, "ONI doesn't know yet. Neither does my sister." I glared around the bay. My voice rose: "It'll stay that way."

"Why?" Linda asked. Her eyes troubled me. She was astonished; she was bewildered. She didn't personally find me a_ true_ SPARTAN.

"Because I like killing things," I said, my voice dead and cold—an intentionally crafted tactic to stress my motivation. "Covenant. . . . Humans would be a nice taste; I've only killed a few Humans, but retrospectively, I'm craving a renewal."

"Coming here was a bad idea," Fred remarked, glancing at the visibly disturbed Kelly by his side. "But Kelly wanted to say goodbye. We thought we would never see you again. But I see that you have gone from a machine into a monster."

"You prefer 098?" I asked. The corner of my upper articulator raised with a small smile.

"098 was a SPARTAN," Linda said. "Red is a tormented child who only spurred his psychogenic disturbance through fighting Halsey's efforts to make you Humanity's best."

"You're correct: I_ was_ a child. But presently, I'm appreciative to Halsey for fashioning me into the person I am today," I replied. "I'm not a monster—I don't have the impulse to kill people. I just enjoy taking the life of those who would endeavor in taking mine. Also those who don't deserve to live; people who are so self-centered that they would allow the torture of a kitten for their own benefit."

I looked at Johns. He moved uncomfortably as my eyes met his; he cocked his view away from mine, equal in the move one would do if they had something to conceal. I said, "Reporters. Pressure is theoretically applied to them, and profitable attainment becomes their only goal in life. There are correspondents flocking the port this shuttle will be docking in—that's why you're here, SPARTAN Johns, to guarantee a seamless connection between me and the press."

"I first thought you three were here to accompany me; to put on a demo for the public." My attention returned to Kelly, Linda, and Fred. "But it's clear-cut that you're here to see me only. You've been waiting for a time, I surmise. I'm sorry if I hurt any of you. I'm sorry if I wasted your time. But whether you agree or not, I will not return to a civilian living with my sister. I won't live a celebrity's life, fearing that I may lose control and end up slaughtering a harassing casual."

"John would be disappointed," Fred said. I gave up my tendency to want to know what John-117 thought of me a long time ago.

"Jorge would be, as well," Linda added. And that hit me harder. Yes—Jorge-052 was the big brother SPARTAN. His size set up an atmosphere of security. John may have been the leader, but Jorge was the guardian. Once, he stood against Senior Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez when he chastised me; he risked his reputation among the SPARTANs to protect me.

_He would detest my disposition_, I gradually realized. "Jorge is dead," I said. "The dead can't determine my actions and choices—neither can the living, for all that much that they once could. If he were here to smack me across the head himself, I might have reconsidered."

"I can smack you over the head if you want," Kelly offered.

I smiled. Kelly was never without a tenuous witty mindset. "He has a strength you don't," I told Kelly. "You just wouldn't be able to knock any sense into me."

"Can we go, sir?" Linda suddenly asked Fred. I tried to meet her eyes, but she turned them at every angle to escape mine. I knew without a need for validation that Linda wasn't comfortable around me; suffice to say, I was no brother to her.

"Yes," Fred replied before saying to me, "Perhaps we can work, one day, conjointly. But if that was to happen, you need to keep to your roots. You're a SPARTAN before a monster."

"And_ you're_ a soldier before a machine," I added to that. I didn't mind sounding cheesy in certain instances, particularly when those instances held verity. "Give Mendez my regards. . . .Unless he's not here for_ other_ reasons."

Fred didn't response. He herded Kelly and Linda into the elevator behind me. Kelly stole a glimpse at me as she passed; she wanted more time with me.

_They're a team_, I recited to myself, turning to follow them with my eyes. I watched them mutely enter the elevator. I gave Fred one last nod as the doors_ hissed_ together. He didn't return the nod before he, Linda and Kelly disappeared from my life. At that moment, I knew I would never see them again.

Ten minutes later, I was seated securely in the shuttle's passenger bay with Derek Johns standing diametric to my seat. The SPARTAN-IV was too large and clunky for any seating space. He had to resort to standing during our travel from the ONI orbital facility to Sydney, the Commonwealth of Australia, and the home to HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6—the UNSC's headquarters.

The passenger bay wasn't spacious; thirty passengers was the maximum load. I couldn't resolve if that fell into the good or bad line. Bad thing was that it wasn't big or aureate, so it wasn't for prominent UNSC personnel. The good thing was that I felt comfortable being encompassed by my surroundings. Being enclosed gave me a clear view to survey any angle I could get attacked from, and allowed me to funnel my basic cognitive process to the escapes if something ill-suited occurred.

"I felt inadequate back there," Johns said. I knew it would be but only minutes before he raised a conversation with me. I didn't like it.

"Good. Continue to remember who's the real SPARTANs," I said compressively. Now was one of those moments where my discernment reached a higher point than my logic. I should have, at the very least, endorsed his orientation towards SPARTANs and his statue.

"I apologize," I said when Johns didn't say another word. "And I'm thankful you're not excessively assertive."

Johns groaned in reply. Being an insignificant response, he said, "I'm not a SPARTAN by choice; I don't even agree on the Branch's origins, let alone its developing formula."

"You're not a SPARTAN by choice?" I asked._ He could be lying_. With his helmet on, I couldn't see any quality of speaking the truth in his eyes, so I needed his phonation to supersede that lacking.

"No," he affirmed. He was telling the truth. That, or his voice was masked by deceit. But why, if the latter was indeed the resolving factor?

"No," I repeated to myself. Then, impelled by my ever eager thirst for elaborations to preceding words, I asked, "What's tying you down?"

"Take a guess. I can't go further than offer you three chances and give you hints to if they're right," Johns said.

_Three guesses. . . ._ The bay's broadcasting speakers crackled to life, and a flow of words accompanied by static emitted to an echo throughout the bay: "We're three minutes off of setting down. Commence initial procedures." The air that escaped with my next expiration was more heated; I thought BB was the one coming through the speakers, not the pilot.

"ONI," I said after I instituted the fact, that the pilot was done drowning out all sound.

"Fire hot," Johns replied. "That's all I can say. Admiral Osman doesn't trust you, and my reasons for being a SPARTAN-wannabe are confidential—Tier One."

"Something tells me that you don't want discourse about it as much as Osman vies for you to keep your lips sealed." I brought my rucksack up from relaxing by my legs and laid it on my lap.

"Can you lend me that 'something'?" Johns asked, running an indefinite quantity of quick, external diagnosis scans over his armor's systems, "because it seems to have some good senses."

I tried to obscure a desperate smile. My muscles were pulling my lips up, but I held the line against any desisting in control. The Human body was magnificent and convoluted on a scale running symmetric with the universe's diverse algorithms.

Perception was the most furrow-inducing segment of the Human morphology—memory, smell, sight, hearing, reflexes and many more additive senses that may or may not be officially eligible to be called perspectives.

Shamefully, perception was alterable by third-parties. Humans had adapted to nature and had made nature adapt to their demands. Was there any other example more worthy than me? Every sense of mine had seen itself improved upon in every way. The Gravemind probably compelled me down this itinerary in some dark, shrouded form.

The incision of a scalpel or the drilling of a machine wasn't required to alter senses. The cold, shrill feeling of chemicals when they flooded your body also held no avail against the sound of a single person's voice.

This fact pissed me off. Once the shuttle landed on a platform and was locked down, and Johns had led me to the foggy airlock, I waited for the reporters. There were two floods. God's flood. And Humanity's flood. I couldn't make my mind up on deciding which one was bottom from second worst. The literal Flood I could kill. The reporters I couldn't kill until I got too pestered that Osman would see the rationality in a few dead people turning up with my fingerprints coating them.

"If you're not going to keep to a semi-public face, keep it clean," Johns advised me. The air was sticky with vapor, and I found it hard to breath._ Standing quarantine protocols . . . from fifty years ago on an outer colony_, my mind informed me._ Vintage ship to go with a vintage asset._

"And keep a straight look no matter the question," Johns added in a commanding tone of voice. He didn't think himself superior; he was rightfully apprehensive about my reception to media attention. "Additionally, your name and ties are to be kept to yourself. To the public, you're Petty Officer Second Class SPARTAN-098. Red Jsarez is covered in black ink."

"That's going to be a problem if I was to retire," I said.

"But, by_ your_ words, you're not," Johns said, running his hand along the metal bulkhead; the metal was damp and reacted to his touch by removing its aerosol. "But if you were, I speculate that you would just get a new identification. You're mother's been referred to a mental institute, so her being wise to who you are won't matter—she'll be regarded as insane."

"_If_ she remembers me," I said. I couldn't help but yield, and let my eyes slant to the floor. Johns was in front of me, so he didn't see. I didn't want anyone to see any of my emotions, not including Courtney.

"Don't fret over what you don't know," Johns told me as the air around us got denser; the cumulation of the quarantine routines was imminent.

"I'm not fretting." I returned my eyes to their central angle in concurrence with the clotted air being ventilated from the constrictive chamber. I coughed in protest to the ship's outdated quality. Sucking in a mouthful of air, I added to my recent words, "I don't care what happens to her."

"You don't mean that," Johns said as if he was stating a fact. People got facts and opinions intermingled, and it pissed me off.

"How can I care for someone I don't know?" I asked.

Johns didn't answer._ Wise_, I thought; I didn't want him investing any time in my family, and my life, and my ambitions. People often left their ambitions behind to better meet the demands' of their families. They subjected themselves to a nonproprietary job with a nonproprietary profit return for their time. They died, never extending their ambitions beyond supporting their family.

My ambition was to die killing thousands of inconsiderate dickheads. Courtney, my mother, my_ dead_ father—neither of the trio would have an opposite effect on my ambitions.

The oval doors of the airlocks exit opened. Tiny drifting synthetic drones inundated into the chamber as Johns hurried me out onto the landing platform. Dozens of drones and reporters encircled me. Numerous questions were being directed at me; I couldn't concentrate on any of their queries.

Johns retreated to the aft of me. By holding my shoulder, he led me down from the platform the rugged shuttle laid dormant on, and pushed me through the shouting assemblage. He directed me down a crowded flight of stairs and into the port's open terminal strip. Journalists and eager citizens funneled through the port's entranceway to get a glimpse of a fabled SPARTAN-II.

Johns acted with a consummate aptitude in public relations, all the while not showing emotions to the drones bobbing by faceplate. He scanned the surrounding second-floor balconies, maintenance corridors breaking off of the terminal, and stair-flights. It took me a while to overcome the realization hurdle bound my way; just SPARTAN Derek Johns' escort wasn't efficient enough to defend me from this attention.

ONI was worried about assassination attempts, and I was the worm on the end of the hook. Courtney knew—that was why her closest friend, Colonel Lynda Keyes was shadowing us through the crowd; Major Tyler Hauver and Captain Dean White accompanied her.

Now I was alert, and that was dangerous. The first reporter who got too close to me would end up with a dashed cervix. I didn't care if I incidentally slaughtered a member of the press.

ONI should've explained this to me. I would've accepted an offer that might have involved killing someone. The stability of the operation would have been secure if they brought me in on it. But the risk of me refusing would demolish any chance to catch a potential assassin with his or her pants down. I couldn't care which sexuality it was. Doctor Catherine Halsey neutered me during my augmentation process.

We were closing in on the archway leading out of the florid ship port when_ it_ happened. Seven coated males incoming with a new batch of excited civilians pulled out pistols and submachine guns from their coats and jackets. They didn't open fire.

Johns acted fast and pushed in front of me; a blue hardlight shield materialized from his wrist and enveloped us, conjugating us in a three-sixty shield that reached above our heads' summit.

Thirteen more armed assailants came sprinting into the port's atrium. They only stopped to bring their firearms to aim at us, and they weren't alone. Next came three Jackals with another five Human attackers, each armed with various pistols and SMGs. This situation was getting interesting—it wasn't an exclusively Human-based hit. It could've just been Jackal mercenaries putting on a refugee performance to get on Earth, but Elites wouldn't resort to payment by Humans.

Bedecked in armor of Hesduros ethnical design, an Elite Zealot came up behind the reinforcements.

And that was it; I had to grin._ The game is on!_

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><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

So much for hoping to an end of writer blocks.

It's been a busy past week for me, but there's more to it. I had some trouble deciding how to start this chapter off and got stuck doing three pages worth of writing before scrapping it and beginning again.

I also have confidence problems in my writing which fuelled further scrapping. Stupidly enough, when writing this, I compared what I was writing to actual fictional literature works I have sitting on a self. This method was not smart; I constantly went back over things that were perfect the way they are, trying to make them more like they were in the books I read.

One day, I want to be a professional writer. I want to write something that will pique peoples' interests and garner the attention of Hollywood themselves. Too bad I will probably refuse any adaptation since Hollywood doesn't adapt to bring a story to life, but to max in on a book's success; just look at Fifty Shades of Grey. No offense to people who like the book. . . . God knows how far my readers expand their interests.

The point remains. I want to write expertly, and I'm trying to do it _here_ for some damn reason. I still haven't got a good enough grasp of my skills to reference from other books. Add this to the fact that each author has his or her own writing style, and I'm taking this writing_ way_ too seriously. It's FanFiction—it's not going to be perfect, it's not going to be professional; this is a stepping stone for me, and I'll continue to learn as I go.

So, now if I focus less on listening to my inner protectionist and more on just keeping the story flowing, updates should_ hopefully_ not fall under pressure. Jeeze. I need to chillax. As long as the story's flowing good, I take in feedback, and I learn as I go, how professional my writing is doesn't matter as much as I'm making it.

By the way, I apologize for the cliffhanger. I also apologize for making overly long A/Ns that could pass as stories of their own.

Reviews are appreciated. If you have any questions, believe me, you're doing me a favor by asking, and I love answering questions. If you spot any typos, grammar errors, or canonical mistakes, please highlight them, and I'll patch them up.

Oh, this is overdo, but thanks go to **Harbringer-of-script** for following. Remember, OC rules still apply, but you need to leave a single review. Also, thanks go to **Trusne**, **Fleightfire**, **Starart123**, and **The** **Constitutionalist** for reviewing. Each chapter, I'll thank people who review. Every ten chapters from now on, I'll go over followers and list them out with thanks. This is just to further acknowledge my readers—no one has any problems, right?


	54. Earthly Welcome

**(-(-(—****[]Red Jsarez[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>Each individual mind had their own understanding of certain words and their various synonyms.<p>

People took words out of context on a regular basis and utilized the words for the irregular. Chaos was one word of many; chaos was speck out of thousands of different words taken out of proportion. Chaos was a word I would usually use on small-scale incidents. Larger scales had more exquisite words to make apparent the vehemence I put on the occurrent.

_This_ specific incident did not warrant the word chaos—chaos was not proper. It was, simply put, just surreal. Sometimes surreal could not be removed from context. At least the context remained here.

With his free hand, SPARTAN Derek Johns unclipped his M6H from his thigh's magnetized strip and brought it to bear. His elbow was aligned horizontally from his torso, giving him space to move and mobility for targeting. He was accoutered with nothing other than a sidearm, to avoid discouraging any assassins.

Assassination was not a suitable word. They could have fired on us before we shielded ourselves; assassins did not have consideration for civilians. If they, for some ethical reason, did, the press were doing us a favor by being dense enough to remain and document what was happening while the bystanders rushed to nearby emergency exits. Other retards persisted to see the outcome of this very real scenario.

"COMMs, now!" Johns ordered me. I did not like the lack of patience in his tone, but I did not hold myself to be so egocentric that situations such as this were secondary to re-establishing my dominance. Following his orders, I pulled, from the pocket of my Navy fatigues, a device that I plugged into my right ear promptly. The amplified breathing of Johns denoted the working condition of the earpiece.

The Elite Zealot moved passed the ranks of its twenty-seven adjuncts. The way the Sangheili moved was delicate, and its legs shifted with a peculiar agility and malleability I had never seen exhibited by an Elite. The Elite was small in physique and size . . ._ It was petite_. It was a female Sangheili.

"This is not a terrorist attack," the Elites said in fluent English, striding closer to us. "This is a negotiation!" The Elite came to a halt and revolved her head around, looking at the civilians amassing behind Johns' blue, protective, hardlight shield ellipse that enveloped us. "Your regime has something of a particular value to me, and if they can't give it to me, then death will come to you."

"Your over-watch is taking their time," I remarked silently; Johns' COMM systems would amplify my voice, so what I said would remain anonymous to the civilians and assailants.

In response, Johns' by standard, average, voice came through my earpiece: "I was skeptical if you would figure it out. Snipers are in position, and ground agents are on station; they're just awaiting a chance. I think they want to find out what this Elite has to say."

The snipers would not have to wait long. The female Elite, eager to show her confidence, moved exquisitely towards the hardlight cylinder Johns and I centered in while Lynda Keyes gave orders to Tyler Hauver and Dean White, assisting the port's security in establishing a margin for the civilians' safety.

The Elite female stopped in front of the hardlight shield and pressed her hand against the shield's anterior curve. In lieu of spending her attention on Johns, who stood above me as the perceptible threat, she locked her hidden eyes onto me. Hidden or not hidden, I felt her soul speaking to mine. Albeit, I could not draw apart the transaction.

_This is personal_, I realized.

"I want the bodies of Vale Nar 'Saras and Jol 'Turas," the Elite said; she did not move, and thatdisturbed me. "In return, the massing behind you will suffer no death. A small price?"

_ONI leak_, I concluded.

"We don't comply with the requests of_ terrorists_," Johns' replied. To my botheration, he was not going to relent; his demeanor turned from protecting me to upholding Human jurisprudence in a matter of moments.

"We are_ not_ terrorists!" the Elite snapped, her mandibles flaring and sending spittle flying from the gap between her jaw guard onto the shield. Furthering her clear anger, she dragged her hooked claws along the shield. Bodily aggression was a stressing method of the Sangheili. "We are the Pariahs of Ethnicity; we are a sanctuary,_ not_ a hate group. We want what belongs to us—_by rights_!"

"_Pariahs of Ethnicity"_, I repeated internally._ The Gravemind's vision. The Elite in exotic fittings called his assemblage what I had just heard_.

Curious, I found no reasons to not ask Johns about them. "The Pariahs of Ethnicity—who are they?"

My monotone seemingly didn't have enough demand in it; Johns was not inclined to answer me. "Now's not the time—"

"Secrets," the female Elite hissed as she began pacing around the front of our shield. "He won't tell you what your Illuminati desires you not to know."

"That's not it," Johns said, choking a laugh. "It's the situation. I'm in a negotiation affair, and I can't be distracted in_ any_ way."

"You don't negotiate with terrorists," I reminded Johns, keeping my voice low so only the Elite or Johns could hear me. The news correspondents would only increase their pressure on me if I demonstrated any non-patriotic terms.

Johns was not pleased, but he did not take his eyes off the Elite pacing on the opposite side of the dividing shield. My attack on him did not outdo the importance of the state of affairs. He said, "I'm not so sure we're dealing with terrorists, actually. 'Illuminati' is a term used by simpletons—this attack is way too adroit for simpletons."

"Illuminati is the name given to us for you," the Elite explained. Her forbearance was ending, and her pacing became rapider as she put more intensity into her steps.

"By the_ same_ person who leaked the bodies' recovery to you?" Johns asked.

The female Elite stopped pacing; she turned to face the shield and put her hand on it, directly in front of Johns' position. "You were not going to return the bodies," the Elite said conclusively, removing her hand from the shield and running it along her other arm's scales; she stroked herself to ease her anxiety. "Or you were, but not without something in return."

_The Isigrass_. I scoffed when I subconsciously realized that ONI knew where Thel 'Lodam and the Monarch were heading and that ONI were going to risk diplomatic constancy with the Arbiter to get David Larson back into the fold. I also rubbed underneath my chin when another recognition came to me._ A vengeful widow_.

I needed to know something before this argument extended too far. "Who was Jol 'Turasee to you?" I asked.

The Elite craned the semi-reptilian head, at rest on a sesquipedalian neck, to me, and placed both her hands against the shield. "You know who I am—that is why you asked. How did he die?"

"A trigger-happy Marine executed 'Turasee at point-blank range," I said. I intentionally lowered my voice for the forthcoming words. "I executed the Marine almost immediately ensuant. I was not myself. . . ."

_This isn't good_. I remained composed as Juridical replaced me as the administrative personality. The arrangement of him must have made any reference to Jol 'Turasee a trigger.

"It was justice," Juridical added after assuming control. Johns grunted; he realized that an alter had taken control by the change of my vocalization from one with no pitch delivery, no emotion, to one with a powerful tone that relied on conviction.

Johns did not feel as if I was the central focus—he was correct in that assumption. He said, to the Elite, "I'll repeat: We_ do not_ negotiate with terrorists. And, above all, we_ do not_ negotiate with_ alien_ terrorists."

"Be considerate for your people," the Elite hissed, neglecting the facts about ONI that must have reached her mind.

I felt subtly perplexed about the alter's plans. He placed a hand on Johns' armor-plated shoulder. Since I was the main personality, my perspective senses maintained a coherence. I felt what any alters felt when in control, and that offered an undesirable conclusion.

"Relinquish the bodies of Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee and Minor Jol 'Turasee. Effective immediately is my overtaking of orders. You_ will_ follow my orders," Juridical said. Every motion of_ my_ lips, every breath that carried with his words made me feel more and more dominated.

"Remove your hand," Johns ordered over the COMM. "Remove it. I don't follow_ your_ orders."

Juridical did not obey. Johns denied him any attention and instead switched channel—I heard the ping-click as Johns disconnected. He was addressing the ONI snipers—he was giving the marksman, positioned at the elevated vantage points of the terminal, neutralization directives.

"There are marksmen positioned around the terminal," Juridical warned the Elite. "They are going to attack."

The Elite believed him and backed off from the hardlight shield's radius as Johns' elbow hooked around and took Juridical in the ribs.

"Open—"

The Elite widow's dictation came too late. As she began to order her men to open fire, tiny trails appeared through the air and bullets impacted off of the twenty-five Humans and three Jackals, causing them to all to drop flaccidly to the ground's surface, flinging their M6 series pistols and various SMGs into the air. There was no bodily fluid—non-lethal rounds.

The Elite was also taken out. Four bullet projectiles, leaving air trails, took her shields out before a final round to her left articulatio humeri took her down.

Juridical sucked in all the air his respiratory functions allowed. He got to his feet as Johns deactivated the hardlight shield that flared brightly once before vanishing, leaving only tiny energy molecules to drift to the ground.

Johns kept his magnum lowered to the Elite's paralyzed body as he crept over to it. Stopping to a hold just by the body, he prodded it with his foot. Content that she was no longer a danger, he relaxed his tightened muscles, holstered his magnum on his thigh's magnetic strip, and turned about to face me.

Juridical's breathing calmed, but I could still feel the inflammation of the swelling ribs. I was lucky to have survived the hook without a damaged ribcage.

Lynda, White, and Hauver came rushing over with five security personnel. Hauver helped Juridical up as White brought his arm's TACPAD up to his mouth and initiated a link to Courtney—she was freaking out, no doubt.

"I saw that elbow!" Lynda said, incensed and positive that there was a deeper explanation. "_Mind telling me what the fuck that was for_?"

"He was impeding my handling of this situation!" Johns snappingly replied, crossing his arms and watching the civilians and reporters being led from the terminal. "I did what my_ handler_ ordered me to do."

"That was not justified," Juridical said, physically indicating the unconscious bodies littering the ground like soda cans or cigarettes. "Supplying them with the product of their request would have been ethical."

"_These_ people_ aren't_ patient. I wasn't equipped to handle this," Johns said. "And civilians were in danger. We couldn't risk a firefight. Personally, I have little doubt that twenty-four hours from now, they will be shipped back to Sanghelios with the corpses."

Juridical retracted from control. A control I instantly resumed. It was simple. Juridical posed a problem, but not one that did not have a quick solution.

I took my tailored stance; straight, aligned, and ready. "It's me," I said to reaffirm my presence.

"I know," Johns replied. He peered over his shoulder. Pelicans were dropping off reserved Army Troopers in the parking lot that ariled the distance between the port and the highway leading into Sydney.

"Follow me," Johns said, leading us from the terminal. Squads of Army troopers passed me, Lynda, White, and Hauver as we exited from the atrium. Nearly all of them glanced at me as they rushed by, hefting DMRs and Army-issued MA37 assault rifles.

"They'll be secured and taken to a detention facility in orbit," Johns said, removing his helmet and placing it under his arm. His blue-dyed hair whipped as the breeze greeted his face. Sudor beads blew from his hair and face like water being sucked off a surface. "I've been assured that they'll be sent back to Sanghelios—the bodies with them. The Pariahs of Ethnicity have close bonds with the Arbiter, so ONI won't go out of their way to piss them off."

"They were_ pretty organized_," Hauver noted.

"Who's their boss?" Lynda asked._ She's playing the detective_, I thought, not understanding the relevance of her question.

Neither did Johns, in the pertinence matter. "Why ask?" he questioned. His voice saw itself elevated, so the roar's of the Pelicans did not drown out his voice. It ruined the inquisition mood.

"On Sanghelios, different Keeps have different Elders that raise the local kiddies," Lynda said, attracting my full attention. "So, that being said, the primary skills of an Elite depends on the Elder, who raises 'em. For instance: The Elites from the 'Vadam or 'Lodam Lineage are skilled warriors. Also, the 'Saras Lineage are recognized widely for their skilled tacticians, as well."

_She plays the detective game well_, I thought.

"Did 'Lodam tell you all this?" White asked. We were losing distance between the atrium and the selected Pelican for our evacuation; the conversation was about to enter a hiatus.

"_Nah_, 'Sarasee," Lynda said. "Issue boy wouldn't talk to me_ before_ he went nuts. That Vale guy did. He was kind of cool. It's a shame he's dead. . . . Franti too."

The conversation displaced with Hauver's heading. "I thought you didn't like Night, ma'am."

"I don't like Morgan," Lynda deadpanned. "Cylus and Franti are and were all right. In fact, they were_ better_ than all right! They did_ exactly_ what I would do!"

"You would assassinate a Governor or kill a Squad of Helljumpers?" White asked doubtfully. He was joking. I did not have the basic grasp of what Lynda would do—but_ he_ did.

"Don't be an ass, Cap." Lynda cracked a laugh as we reached the Pelican. Two Squads of troopers piled out of the tray and hurried past us, heading to the atrium. I was not impressed by the Army's response times; Naval Intelligence predicted a hostile situation, so they had response teams on standby.

_They are adding more and more to my hate bucket dedicated to them_, I thought grimly.

Lynda let out a pained sigh, clambering up into the D79-TC Pelican's bloodtray; the rest of us followed her up. The Trooper manning the turret did not presume to aid us up. The Trooper aside him quickened over to the door to the cockpit compartment and clapped his fist against it, disclosing our embarkation to the pilot. Were it an EXFIL situation, he would have used his COMM. The method was more or less sportive banter.

Lynda observed the communication but paid it no heed. "I feel sorry for Night. The_ good_ two," Lynda said quietly and painfully; she gave her recent suspiration an explanation. "Officially, they've been dead for years, so their names aren't gonna be etched into the monument. Nor will they be remembered at the Tribute."

" 'Tribute'?" I asked, settling on one of the many seats that ran parallel to each other in the bay. The arrangement offered movement and an opportunity for respite.

But instead of the state cooling down, things heated up with Lynda's eyes glinting with incertitude as she glowered at Johns. Johns was not offended by the expression and took a seat on the bench row diametric to me. "I thought he might have already known. And he didn't look like one who would appreciate reiteration," Johns explained.

"Too much emphasis is better than not knowing at all," I said. White made a curious hum seating himself next to me. My timbre had not grown on him._ Your voice is no joy to listen to either_. I would not repeat my mind.

"I apologize," Johns said dryly. His apology was not legitimate, and he was not trying to hide that fact.

"Apology accepted," Lynda grinned, taking a seat a few spaces up from Johns; Hauver sat adjacently to her.

"It wasn't directed at you," Johns said without visible emotion, resting his helmet on his lap and bringing the TACPAD built into his right gauntlet up to his mouth and began intercommunication with his handler.

Lynda, on the polar spectrum, acknowledged Johns' words with a forward glance but did not give him anything else. Ignoring him, Lynda pointed at me with a minimum quantity of effort and said, "ONI didn't plan for the pop to find out 'bout us for a few days yet. But when we arrived back at Earth, ONI wanted to smuggle all the survivin' families over to Sydney for a commemoration service for the_ Kryptonite_ and her crew. The name for this thingy has been opted to be called_ 'the Tribute'_."

Lynda wrapped her fingers around a support bar above her seat as the Pelican lifted off. I adored the movement that went with the Pelican's locomotion, but Lynda did not. It did not halt her proceeding. "The Tribute is planned to take place just as soon as all the families get here—a few days, in short. Originally, President Ruth Charet was to reveal our survival at a public conference in the Royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney where the model of a monument to be dedicated to us would also be unveiled. But, as it goes, ONI didn't communicate with the families on the right levels, and someone with a big oral cavity yapped about us over social media."

"Which led to_ rumors_, which led to ONI having to_ corroborate_ the rumors," Hauver added. "Now it's a lot harder to get out and enjoy a cup o' joe. A bunch of_ fucking journalists_ are camping_ right outside_ the base. Pretty nostalgic for me."

Whatever he was implying, White and Lynda knew; they did not pursue an answer. I had no care, so no ground to adopt their stead. I remained silent until I realized I had yet to ask something that was obligatory of me as a brother.

"How's Courtney?" The question belonged to White. Irritated I was at my absent of asking earlier, I was also irritated that he did not dare to tell me at the same timespan.

"Sore. Worried." White motioned to Johns. "Out for one's_ blood_." He slanted in his seat and rotated his head, so his left eye met my right. "Sorry I didn't tell."

_Sorry I didn't ask_. "We had more imperative matters," I said. In lieu of no assuasive pitch to go with my monotoned voice, I permitted myself a single nod to give him; a gesture as clear and worthy of being simple was sufficient.

"Hey, we're bringing up old topics, are we?" Lynda asked, looking down the bench row to Johns, who had culminated his transmission with his handler. "What 'bout the name of the bad guy's boss?"

". . . Orta 'Rakzom," Johns said, ulterior from the conversation; the light of the tray radiated from his eyes, showing them stuck on the distance. His handler went more in-depth than just ask for a concise debriefing. I wished I had paid careful attention to what transpired.

" '_Rakzom_, eh?" Lynda rubbed her chin, a generic motion to designate a thinking state. "Never heard of them. Are they popular?"

"Not by a long-shot," Johns answered, rubbing a hand through his blue hair that breached several hygiene and esthetic regulations. "They're a traditional Lineage fuelled by honor and a rebellious disposition towards the Covenant. Nevertheless, they served when their duty demanded it, but not without doubts. Orta was all for the Covenant, but he grew a deep resentment towards the hegemony, and that resentment extended to his Lineage as well. He despised the Covenant because of their disposition towards his Keep and their holdings, but he hated his family for holding him back."

"You didn't stop from going all out about him," Hauver remarked. "It sounds like he was a school project of yours."

"In a matter of speaking, he was. Though I was more engaged without the background noise of a dozen other kids, so I picked up more. And, being older, took it into a better consideration than I could at ten, or nine." Johns explained earnestly. "He's interesting. It comes from his out-of-the-way character with the rest of his relations. For one: He was never promoted beyond a Minor despite his excellent war prowess. His brother held him back through . . . inconclusive means."

_An Abomination_, a deep voice said. At the time, I paid it no heed, and amassed all my concentration on John's facial expression that grew more and more fervid; his voice raised with each second. He was about to say something that he anticipated would take us off-guard.

"The 'Rakzom are a clan dedicated to swordsmanship and honor," Johns said. "They are no tacticians. But, as you have seen, Orta is cunning, resourceful, efficient, and he knows how to lead despite_ never_ leading. No Sangheili knows this, but he's not a 'Rakzom. He's Vale Nar 'Sarasee's_ dead_ kid."

_An Abomination_. It was now my voice in my head.

"Nope. No. Too many contradictions," Hauver protested decorously. "Although I didn't speak to 'Sarasee myself, Lieutenant Franti did to a surprising length, and what 'Sarasee told Franti was stuff that really didn't go beyond a circle that he and a few other Sangheili shared."

"If this is so classified, how does a standard SPARTAN know?" White asked, questioning Johns' integrity.

Johns took the challenge to his legitimacy with stride and lowered his voice so the two Troopers by the border of the tray could not hear us._ This is the production of multiple answer_s, I thought.

"I've just been reassigned from social services to the Head-Hunters—just then." Johns glanced at me, suspecting me of already being wise to a comparative reference to this. "I hope this explains the dead face I've been wearing."

"Positively cleared of confusion," I replied.

Johns nodded. He rotated his view between us to signal that he was about to address us all. His voice became as close to a whisper as he could get while still retaining enough strength to allow his voice to contrast from the Pelican's rumbling. "ONI already wanted Orta dead for causing some trouble here and there This attack just solidified their fear of what this Elite is competent of in terms of skill, strategy, and_ boldness_. One of ONI's main rules is to keep the Sangheili crippled."

"How are you so sure that ONI will appreciate you relinquishing this information to us?" I asked, taking into account the faces' of Lynda and Hauver. They looked like they had just seen a ghost.

"You already know half of ONI's dirty secrets," Johns answered.

_No, that's not it. This is a test_, I realized, having no intent on indulging him on his test. Osman cared for me, but she put ONI first in all terms. She needed to know if we would provide a future problem. And she had a right to be worried.

To purchase us time, I spoke to the others with microscopic eye signals. I told Hauver, White, and Lynda to keep their mouths shut. Johns had not seen their faces—he had not seen my eye signals—so to him, we remained oblivious to his remark.

"More than half," I replied, ending the topic with a full-stop ambiance to my paper-blank voice.

If White could protect Courtney, I would forsake her for my own selfishness. But White would not be able to protect Courtney from Osman; only I stood a chance against Osman.

I was not leaving. Courtney rested at the climax of my capital end, and I would put her before me in all regards in all further occurrences.

_I may end up killing people_, I thought, overeager for the potential future. The future held too many potentials to be narrowed down by a single mind—several minds would not do either. You had to experience the future to accurately know what it held.

An unnerving silence followed. It made an implication to our uneasy feelings subsequent to Johns' own implications. I would have ended it myself had Hauver not intervened.

"I'm going back to Orta here," Hauver said, rubbing the lids of his eyes and leaning back in his seat. "I'm sorry, but I'm picking up a load of bullshit here. How does ONI know something so private yet and the Sangheili know null?"

Diverting from the established topic, we had to wait a moment as the pilot's voice reverberated throughout the bloodtray. "Cargo, this is family driver. We're minus three off."

Johns keyed his earpiece. "Affirmative, family driver. Give us a heads-up for when we're landing."

"Sure thing. Family driver, out." A zap of static made my pharynx fuzzy as the pilot switched off the link.

An end to the disruption. Johns relaxed his hand back down by his helmet on his lap and peered down the seat row to Hauver. "The answer is going to be_ annoyingly unsophisticated_."

"Better than fucking hard," Hauver playfully retorted._ He is masking his anger well_, I noted, interested in his unaccustomed adeptness in this field. He was not surprised.

"Okay. I promise not to make fun of you," Johns said.

"Good. Making fun of people's_ my_ job." Hauver hid a small smile. His eyes were darkening in intensity._ Yes, that is correct_. I recalled a valuable element to Hauver's character. Like me and David Larson, he was not_ all_ Human.

"I guess we're colleagues." Johns fiddled with a guard plating on one of his fingers. "Well, let's quiz you first. What do we have that the Covies_ don't_?"

"Good daddies?" Lynda inquired.

"Morality?" White asked, only now figuring out Johns earlier comment—he did a noteworthy job at hiding his emotions.

"Equal rights?" Hauver asked before snapping his hand up to stop any reply. "Wait, I'm sorry, we still don't have equal rights."

Johns gave him an intrigued look but answered with a smart flavor to his voice; he was impressed with himself. "Forensic science." Johns clicked his fingers at the nettled expressions that blanketed the trio's faces. "Yeah! I love my job! ONI has a DNA database in a subsurface research laboratory with the strands of several prominent Elites floating around in biological preservation coolers."

"Please tell me you're not suggesting that the Elites donated their_ sacred blood_ to their once sworn enemies," Lynda groaned, unconvinced and amused at the prospect. "I'd have more luck believing that the Brutes donated their sperm for Humanity in a research effort to figure how they're so damn ugly and hairy."

"You make the best analogies, Colonel," Hauver said.

"I know. And people say that I have a messed-up mind." Lynda stuck her tongue out and wrapped her lips around it, gagging on it before completing her expression and saying, "Better to be insane than boring."

_I concur_._ Not many will see an agreeable argument_, I thought.

"Analogies don't belong here," Johns said. "What's fact_ is fact_. But to answer your question: The Elites didn't give up their DNA willingly. We took it, and they aren't aware of it. For example: We gathered the Arbiter's DNA from multiple sources. One of the more popular samples was from a splatter of the Arbiter's blood when a Brute Chieftain attacked him at Voi, just before the Flood first arrived on Earth."

"And subsequently got told to_ fuck off_," Lynda added viciously, having a "Humanity for the win" tone lingering with her voice's color.

"How did you get Orta's DNA?" I asked. "And after you answer that, tell me how_ you_ know in addition to why ONI collected the DNA when a treaty with the Elites wasn't yet debatable." I thought about inquiring to how ONI had a congenial mix of bio-chemicals and artificial compounds to support the strands, but the answer to my question came with the implementation of Forerunner engineering into Human technological applications.

" 'Rakzom was with the first wave of Elites sent down to engage the Flood at Voi," Johns explained. "And, of course, his shields got dropped and he got injured to an extent that the Elites dumped him on us whilst Elites and a detachment of badasses went through the portal to the Ark."

"Were you with the detachment?" Lynda asked, crossing her arms and wearing a face that said,_ "got you, bitch"._

"Yes," Johns deadpanned._ Snap goes the mousetrap_.

"Narcissist," Lynda mocked smugly, puckering her lips and delivering multiple non-digital emojis Johns' way.

John persisted in displaying his ability to brush off Lynda's fanatic activeness as nonmeaningful jests and swiveled his head back around from her to face me. "To answer your second question, Sierra, I'll say that I know because I'm officially under the dominion of the Office of Naval Intelligence, unlike the bulk of the SPARTAN Branch. And ONI didn't limit my boundaries, to keep me in a state of_ inclusion_ ."

"Cargo, this is family driver!" the pilot said; his voice was clearer than earlier. "We're directly above the Evan's Military Reserve. I'm bringing the taxi down, so ensure that you're seat-belted."

No one touched their seat harnesses. In an account to the pilot's proclamation, I looked out the bloodtray for the first time and saw Sydney's scenery saturating the view; skyscrapers and edifices, both being constructed, repaired, and existing. Air traffic moved in lanes around the towers; most lanes retained a consistency of being military or authority aircraft only. Drones also patrolled the border of the upper-exposed base, in particular. Drones being commanded by media outlets. It was illegal for civilian drones to transgress above the base's airspace, so I was safe from media attention for now.

"Answer the third question," I said, savoring the view for once. Often, one needed to relax and take in the visual aspect of the world.

"At the time, ONI took the samples to develop a biochemical weapon that exclusively killed Sangheili for in case they backstabbed us. But when anticipations weren't met, they resorted to playing a more safe game," Johns explained.

_You're becoming more obvious_, I observed, taking Osman's game into a more severe cerebration. Black-Box had not talked to me since I left the shuttle. Speculation to why had ended. The AI was as Osman said he would be: A percipient in observation—he was there for my needs.

"Also, I think I should mention this as it's a large part of this whole conversation," Johns said. "The reason we have a link between Vale and Orta is because we simply have already taken samples from Vale's corpse. The tech the strands are pulled apart by is sophisticated and relies heavily on Forerunner support."

"I gathered that," I said.

One of the Troopers by the opening of the Pelican's bloodtray whistled for out attention. We gave him that attention; all of us turned and saw that the Pelican was setting down on a landing pad platform. Courtney and three officers unknown to me were stood tightly straight, awaiting us.

Johns, Hauver, Lynda, and White got to their feet, grabbing whatever possessions they had. Following their example, I grabbed the strap of my rucksack and checked to make sure that it was still strapped tightly across my back. I had forgotten about it, and only now remembered that it was still with me.

I pushed up to my feet and fell in with the four, craning my neck in a stretching fashion as I moved. My natural skill with Pelicans allowed the motions of it being securely locked and latched down to be of no discomfort.

White leaned over to Johns. "You may want to wear your helmet. Captain Jsarez isn't happy with you."

Johns grunted in reply. He brought his helmet above his head and lowered it over; steam_ hissed_ as the padded hoop of the helmet connected with pressure sealing components around the neck region of his armor. The helmet locked down. The_ hiss_ that went with the steam venting was nostalgic enough to make me close my eyes and remember all the times I had heard that noise . . . It was a sound that I would not likely hear again.

ONI hadn't told me what they were going to do with my MJOLNIR Mark IV armor. I didn't care. It was only a large agglomeration of expensive metal. It was nescient of me to think so, but listing all the comprising parts of my armor down into my mind was not satisfactory for the current juncture.

Courtney hadn't changed significantly from a few days ago. Her black hair was no longer long but rather cropped. She now looked more like me. She wore a standardized Navy Commissioned Officer uniform. Her face was a replication of my own; average in composition with nothing overreaching their length. The only asset that one could consider aberrant was our pale white complexion and emerald green eyes.

The straight posture the other three stood at did not expand to her. She stood straight, but the need to apply pressure to her ribs disrupted her.

"She's not as formidable as you," Johns observed, vexing me at his dare to state the obvious. "Definitely not. This is going to come back and bite me."

"Courtney's more of a slasher than biter," Lynda said. Her voice was more stiff as her smile thickened the words she spoke.

_No. She's a kicker_. I thought back on the kick Courtney landed to Ensign Alex Gile's face when he referred to me as a machine.

"I can't tolerate slashing; I'll have to defend myself," Johns said, joking, but not enough to deceive Lynda who chuckled and banged her fist against his shoulder's pauldron, indicating that he was to do no such thing.

"Cargo, this is family driver!" the pilot said. "Get the fuck off my bird!"

"Reserves," Lynda sighed as the Pelican's ramp lowered; the two Troopers stepped off the edge of the bloodtray first and hurried down the access stairway and off of the landing pad's platform. "They always have a terrible and informal sense of humor. SPARTAN Johns, if you have that pilot court-martialled, I'll keep Captain Jsarez off ya'."

"Deal," Johns agreed at once.

_Colonel Keyes is accelerating my respect of her with each passing jib and jab_. I was impressed with Lynda's way to deal punishment and to keep the mood light.

A mild_ clang_ of the ramp dragging against the pad got Courtney moving. No one followed her as she walked up the ramp, running her slender fingers through her hair and using the opposing hand to shift some strands from her face. She smiled at me before turning to Johns and contorting her face to a scowl. She put effort into rubbing her ribs—she was making a point that she was pissed.

"Did you do this?" Courtney pointed to my ribs then her own.

"Yes, ma'am," Johns said, fearless to my sister's imminent wrath. "One of Sierra-098's alternative personalities had taken control and threatened the lives of nearly a thousand people. I wouldn't have cared if those people were killed; they are sick, greedy fucks, but I have a job I love too much to be fired over. And the hook was deliberately smoother than it_ could've_ been."

"No it wasn't," Courtney said inexpressively, crossing her arms and frowning at Johns. "I may not have my brother's resistance to pain, but I felt that, and it hurt_ too_ damn much."

"Babe, please don't attack him," Lynda pleaded. "I have a little deal with him, and kicking his ass will ruin it!"

"I can't possibly kick his ass when he's cosplaying," Courtney said blandly.

"I don't consider myself a SPARTAN," Johns said.

"And that must be the only good ingredient to that potion that is_ you_," Courtney said. "BB told me about ONI's plan to draw out any assassins with a potential motive, and I'm pissed about that, you know? That's my brother they were using as bait, and you went along with placing him on the hook."

"I didn't have a choice, and I wouldn't refuse and risk another SPARTAN replacing me and getting Sierra-098 killed," Johns explained. Unbeknownst to him, he had just dug himself a big damn hole.

"You're self-centered to think that," Courtney said. "People tend to think a lot about themselves. But to a point where they assume they're perfection is beyond stereotypical for a sociopath."

"I'm not the sociopath here," Johns said.

_Say it. Say it. Say it._

"You calling me crazy?" Courtney asked, grinning sadistically. "You have_ no_ idea."

"It's going to remain that way," Johns said, looking beyond Courtney to the three officers waiting on the pad. He cocked his head back to Courtney. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am."

"Yep, get outta here." Courtney waved him off. "You smell like spook."

Johns groaned as he walked aside Courtney and down the Pelican's ramp. The three officers fell in with him as he passed by them. It was only now that I spotted the ONI insignia on their Naval fatigues.

"That was tense," I heard BB say through my neural interface. It was the first time he had spoken in hours. It was not relieving.

"How have you been?" Courtney asked me, turning and leading us down the ramp.

"Sleepy," I said. "How's your head?"

"I've been getting headaches, but they're dying down pretty fast," Courtney replied as the five of us filed down stairway connecting the platform to the field of the base. "A significant improvement to the initial pain spike. It felt like a spider was crawling around my brain and ripped itself from my nose."

_You're not far off_. "The Gravemind seemed to want to emphasize the 'going out with the bang' aspect of his character," I said. "What you felt was what happened."

"I wonder how bad pain would be if it weren't suppressed by both our immune systems," Courtney hummed distantly.

"We can make some comparisons," Lynda suggested, moving up between me and Courtney.

"Nah._ Nah_." Courtney shook the suggestion off. "Your wounds aren't something I want to think of."

"Pussy," Lynda grunted, cheerier for the first time in a while.

"Drunken whore."

Lynda narrowed her eyes in something close to astonishment. "Touché."

_Is this normal_? I thought in wonderment._ What a lovely interpersonal chemistry_.

The transaction of stepping from framed metal to dirt and grass was discernible—one could pick apart the contrast. The base was nine hundred meters in length and seven hundred meters in width. In the lower right corner of the base were twelve different landing pads that lowered into an belowground hanger complex where an assortment of aircraft resided. Overlooking the pads was a command tower two hundred meters high.

Barracks, offices, suites, classrooms, a medical facility, and an armory were all in a grid placement across the base. Alleys went between each structure with each alley being wide enough for a Warthog to move through.

Surrounding the base was a fortification bulwark twelve meters tall, preventing the base's secrets from reaching the public's eyes. In addition, defense drones circled the airspace for any infiltrating drones belonging to the media.

"I assume you've heard about the Tribute. I've discussed it with BB, and I'll discuss it with you," Courtney said, "but I've gotta go pick up Joyce from the police headquarters shortly."

"Why you?" I inquired. No matter how densely dead my tone was, there was still a higher pitch for when I was asking questions. The adjustment of basics was impossible.

"Believe it or not, the supporter probably needs support," Courtney said. "I saw that he's not mentally amazing after speaking with him when he was first arrested."

"Can he still help me?" I asked.

Courtney peered over her shoulder as she walked towards a large cubic building with different compartments appearing externally, shaping it into a cube with smaller cubes extending from the base construct.

"I don't trust anyone other than him," I clarified.

Courtney nodded and snaked her head back around. "It's just something that you'll have to change, Red. Joyce has lost his job, lost his credibility, lost his pride."

"Did he state his plans?" I asked. If I could learn his plans, the possibility of swaying him to remain and assist me was all the more easier. I needed Joyce to help me rid myself of the alters. Especially if Ava became a problem in the future.

"He thought of going to live with Lance Corporal Brian Davis and his family on the moon, but I put forth my own offer." Courtney smiled and rubbed her chin. We were closing in on the building that I assumed to be our residential barracks. "An offer that's going to keep both Davis and doctor Hallas Day here as well. The latter wanted to join the crew of the_ Infinity_, but he feels like he can do more good with his family."

"How so?" I asked.

"His parents are wealthy and famous scientists in Japan. They own several universities and are descendants of Wallace Fujikawa," Courtney elaborated.

_Interesting. Day feels more into history and xeno-archeology than quantum mechanics and atom dynamics_, I thought.

"Was it honeyed words or threats?" I asked.

"Neither. I just appeased their sides that are ticklish to the thought of doing something right. They're all good people. That fact was set in stone after they all agreed to this. Plus, they won't be away from their families."

"You're being vague."

Courtney sucked on her lips as we all filed up a stairwell hanging along the outside of the structure and leading to the main entrance. "Oh, but being vague makes you guess!" Courtney jested.

"Well, I've guessed."

Courtney took it to mind that I was in no position to appreciate a joke. It was now that she fully realized that I was different. Temporarily or permanent seemed to be two words that made her spine shudder.

"As you're aware, dad was a entrepreneur when I was listed as MIA." Courtney was repeating an obsolete process. "Well, I just found out that his 'empire' has grown almost fifty times since I disappeared. It's all been left under the control of mom but is being managed by a close friend of dad's. Technically it's all mine. This is not including the help we'll get from Day and his family. So no one is going to question all the ONI money I plan on publicly using to start up a relief organization. EDEN."

That took me off-guard. "Why?" I asked.

"Because there's only so much the UEG and UNSC can do to aid the outer colonies when most are controlled by interdependent governments," Courtney explained eagerly—she was an excited child again. "But if a public-supported organization offers help in return for no vow of loyalty toHumanity's prime government, they won't refuse; we'll be able to help_ so many_ people, Red. And it won't stop there. We'll also deal domestic aid. EDEN will offer solicitors for both victims of injustice and victims of crime. On top of that, we'll also battle back Insurrectionists from colonies that need aid."

Courtney looked at me over her shoulder and flashed a smile. To the unwise eye, it was an avid and intoxicated smile. But Courtney had it for antithetic reasons to what BB believed._ She knows_, I repeated to myself in a mantra._ She knows. She knows. She already knows_.

Courtney's eyes shone, and I saw a dark intent in them. Lingering intensely was a hatred that demanded oblation. Her emerald eyes said that she was distressed, infuriated, devastated, ambitious.

"If we're going to be dealing with criminals and insurgents, we're going to need some tough backing." Courtney smiled and waved me onward up the fragile stairwell. "That's why EDEN is going to double over as a private military company."

_That_ was it. The UNSC_ Kryptonite_ originally had a crew of four hundred and sixty-six men and women of the UNSC. Four hundred and twenty-eight were killed—thirty-eight are alive as of today, not including me.

Most of the four hundred and twenty-eight died when a CSO-class supercarrier attacked the UNSC_ Kryptonite_. A Covenant extremist group commanded the supercarrier. A Covenant extremist group that originated from the Sangheili civil war. The civil war was fuelled by the Office of Naval Intelligence to keep the Sangheili crippled, so they never posed a threat again.

ONI and Osman had indirectly caused the death of four hundred and twenty-eight people both young and old. It did not matter if it was indirect as they knew the reprisal lengths of their decisions. They knew they were sacrificing lives when it was unneeded—the Sangheili offered no_ real_ threat as long as the Arbiter remained in power. Peace_ was_ an accomplishable ambition.

Courtney knew all of this.

Four hundred and twenty-eight people died. A Captain had a protective relationship with their crew. Courtney probably felt like she let her crew down. She also had to kill a young woman to save herself. But it did not fall down to closure; this was_ all_ revenge.

In my mind, I deciphered her words:_ Red, ONI fucked us over, again. Now it's our turn. We're going to raise an army with one goal, but it secretly has another: To kill everyone who had a role in the Sangheili civil war_.

I was game.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Two weeks. This qualifies as a delay, and a delay it shall be titled.

Why was there a delay? I was distracted; I found something that grabbed my attention like a hawk and constricted it so hard that a pet python my friend had died in anguish at the very notion that it was outdone.

I also had problems with a writer's block. I had a hard time handling the situation at the beginning of the chapter, but I'm reasonably content with the ultimate outcome.

The first thing to address is Orta 'Rakzom. Relating to his supposed heritage, I'll like to make a disclaimer: I once quit a story because a dead character was "brought" back to life in an attempt to extend the drama of the series. Perhaps I didn't give the story a fair chance to explain? Incorrect; I had already experienced cliché after generic cliché, and I was on the verge of leaving the story out of frustration.

I'm not inane enough to believe my writing is cliché-free. But I at least harbor the small hope that I'm doing a good job.

To make this longer, I have to address something. I recently discovered that the date the UNSC_ Infinity_ was commissioned on was February 21st, 2557. But I can get around this. How many test missions did_ Infinity_ undertake before being publicly commissioned?

Orta 'Rakzom is an original character designed by **Trusne**. Thanks go out to** Trusne** for submitting the information. I have big plans for your character.

Thanks also go to** shadowfiguredeath10** for following. Albeit, I find you have an astonishing resemblance to another follower I have called** shadowfiguredeath0**.

And thank you** Starart123**,** Fleightfire**,** The Constitutionalist**, and** Trusne** for reviewing the last chapter. Your words go a long way to encourage me that I'm doing a good job.

One last thing to consume your time. I believe some of the original characters I created were without explanation from the readers they originated from. When I was young and naïve, I instantly made characters without the consent or input from their respective readers.

If you are unsatisfied with your character, please tell me in a_ private message_ so we can plan a new character together.

The characters you want to replace can be dead; it doesn't matter. I killed Timmy and Adam Franti because I was unsure if those they were based on were still reading. Also, I needed to free up some space, so I developed these characters as best I could before crushing them like cockroaches.

I'm not George R.R Martin, so don't freak out for the future.

Typos, grammar errors, cannon stuff-ups; if you see them, I hope you'll highlight them for me. I at least expect a thing or two from The Constitutionalist. If one desires perfection, they have come to the wrong place. But I give it all I have, and I'm aware that my writing is flawed. Acknowledgment of one's cons commences the journey to bettering oneself.


	55. Wooden Introduction

**(-(-(—****[]Tyler Woodrow[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>The way Petty Officer Second Class SPARTAN Red-098 lifted his leg, cocked it forward and dropped it down onto the metal step awaiting his contact was not limited by the Gravemind's control.<p>

But it was a persisting error to compare Red's movement with that of the Gravemind's. Commanding Officers put emphasis that Red moved how Red sought to move. There was no plausible logic to give an explanation of the Gravemind's need for that level of control.

Sergeant Tyler Woodrow had seen Red before and after he transformed from one person to another. Red was no longer the man he was on the UNSC_ Kryptonite_. He held a substantial alignment shift, and his mobility was more standard and unambiguous. It was a futile effort for Humanity to deny themselves the right to express themselves physically. Were it not contact with another individual, it was their passive motions. The coils of his muscles, the variables of his features, the pure conviction he put into each step—one conclusive measure stood above all others.

The elimination of theories presided over Red and what people expected of him. On every particle of Red's being, the continuity of his character showed—but it was malnourished with whatever the SPARTAN wanted, and so changes were distributed to preserve his mental state.

"That way you stare at him has_ 'cheesy-romance'_ written all over it—there's that_ passion_, that_ intent_, that_ subconscious undressing_. Hey, don't forget anytime soon that ONI de-sexed him."

Tyler's thumb and pointer met his lips, and he toyed with them. When the provoking words of Private Desmond Tucker seeped in and sparked his brain back to a responsive state, Tyler rotated his head around to meet Desmond's round, soft white face; his blue eyes glittered enthusiastically for an answer.

Tyler sighed at the look. "Joking's not your forte. Please don't try it again because your words are contagious, and I cannot handle a cold ATM."

"Well, I'll put the ATM in front of a fire or something." Demond's face grew broader as his smile malformed its aspect ratio.

"Feckin' hell." As expired as his patience was, Tyler refrained from rolling his eyes and turned his head back to spot Red, Captain Courtney Jsarez and the three officers following them disappear inside the barracks commissioned for the thirty-nine survivors of the_ Kryptonite_. The building was not up to par with what they deserved, but it was doable for what they had to endure the past month. The hot meals were enough to keep Tyler from complaining.

"Did you . . ._ like_ the Petty Officer or something?" Desmond asked.

_Shut up, damn it_! Anytime would have been suitable but that moment. Tyler sighed violently and squinted his eyes at the burning sun's rays that painted his shadow across the ground. "Can you_ not_ do this_ now_! Feckin' hell, Desmond, my family's dead. Just . . ._ stop_."

"_Sorry_,_ sorry_." Desmond put his hands up and backed off, trying to calm down the enraged beast that counted as one of his only surviving friends.

Tyler escaped to the elevation of one of the landing platforms to confide in himself—lament on the past, present, and the obscure future. Desmond joined him; he wanted his friend to confide in.

"But it's partially your fault," Desmond continued, lowering his hands and re-approaching his friend. "That joke of your's led me on, so_ don't_ fucking pin me as . . . an asshole."

"Just . . ._ piss off_!" Tyler snapped. He did not have the courage to face his friend—regret instantly set in and gripped Tyler's already derelict heart.

"That's_ not_ gonna happen," Desmond scoffed, crossing his arms and staring his friend over with a mixed confusion on how to proceed. "We're brothers in arms! If my duty's to hold you as you bleed out . . . then supporting you can sure as_ fuck_ be included!"

Tyler didn't speak. He instead leaned against the pad's railing, twisting his fingers together in a cyclone motion. Lamenting on the past, present, and the obscure future mashed down into one single focus. Decisive decisions had to be made fast—concluding his aggression was Tyler's rudimentary goal as of that moment.

_I'm pushing him away—how feckin' cliché_. Tyler rubbed his rigid temples; the pain from his scolding mind was near unbearable._ Where's the logic in my bullshit_? "I used to think no pain could beat sacrificing your arm for your face." Tyler's bluish-green eyes fell to the eight Brute spiker projectile scars running in a line across his left forearm. "But the worst pain's always the mental stuff. You just . . . I just never believed all that physiological baloney that powdered every Marine veteran."

"Oh, man, I hear you_ loud_ and_ clear_," Desmond said, leaning on the railing beside Tyler. "You fight . . . you die, maybe. . . . You get rewarded with a rich paycheck and commendations."

Tyler agreed. Killing in Humanity's name debunked fear as much as it caused fear. In that ideal, no end for fear arose. "That . . . doesn't do_ much_ for the bongo drum treatment your head gets when you think back on all . . . all the stuff you do._ This_,_ that_. . . . People think it's simple." Tyler's tired eyes reached the argentiferous plated gate of the base; hundreds of news correspondents from all across Earth mustered on the polar side. Tyler thought ill of it:_ They don't get it_.

Tyler's focus did not remain private. "You're_ right on_, pal. But a number know that war isn't like the vids," Desmond said, clapping a hand on Tyler's shoulder. "But their word is outdone by the media's."

"I went out yesterday for lunch. . . ." Tyler trailed off, reminiscing on a thought as dark as his war crimes. "And I was followed_ everywhere_. . . . I haven't had a burger in three months; I deserved that time alone to enjoy one. Ye-they keep going on about how we should be honored, but they won't let me enjoy a_ feckin' meal_."

"There_ are_ drive-throughs," Desmond said wittingly. "You know Aussies aren't_ that_ lacking?"

"Dining in reminds me of a family tradition," Tyler replied; his voice held down a rocky edge even when the sadness of remembering his family overcame him. "I've only ever broken tradition when it comes to religion." Tyler turned to Desmond, leaning on his elbow that pressed against the railing. "BTW, what was with the 'brother in arms' example when we're_ five_ steps up?"

"I had to think up an example_ chop-chop_," Desmond explained. "And the brother in arms one took the bait. It's also more_ serious_. And it takes_ serious stuff_ to get through your thickly layered head."

_You suck at lying_, Tyler thought, moaning a hum of acknowledgment, but remaining not wholly convinced. "Oh, and for the record, the Petty Officer doesn't fancy me." Tyler pushed off the railing and opened his arms. "He just can't get jokes."

Desmond fell into Tyler's arms. He rubbed his head under Tyler's chin before raising it to meet his eyes, and moving in. Their lips connected and massaged one another affectionately before their tongues entered the foreplay. And the tongues were by far the more absorbing example of their passion. They swirled around each other, matching a rhythm and soaking in the moisture of each others' mouth.

_I've reached the verge when it comes to luck_, Tyler thought, considering if he should be so grateful that the person he loved survived the battle on the_ Kryptonite_ when the balance of Fireteam Ecuador was dead. Lance Corporal Dylan Rosolie, Sim Langman, and Private Monty Mccarthy were pulled apart by the explosive bombardment from the CSO-class supercarrier.

The scene grew increasingly vivid each time Tyler recalled it. Initial shock was the cause. The devastation of the moment was in Tyler's mind, but Tyler's mind had temporarily locked the memory away. Tyler didn't want it opened, but every minute that passed did not pass without him thinking of his deceased Fireteam. It was theoretically infeasible to shield his mind from the damage.

And then his family's death became known to Tyler; his world would have ended if not for Desmond. Every night since hearing the news, Tyler had cried himself to sleep in Desmond's arms even when he had refused Desmond's approach.

But there was never any mourning sex to comfort each other. The pair abided by an agreement to keep intercourse at a distance to ameliorate on the consolatory heat. It was also more difficult as, unlike male and female, eye contact during intercourse breached possibility and fled to impossibility.

_Feckin' hell; he needs to shave_, Tyler thought. He relished in the movement of their tongues in coordination but was distracted by Desmond's five o'clock. The dawn of the realization that they were not in the privacy of their quarters made its way to Tyler's attention. Desmond was also aware—but like Tyler, he did not care; the vibrant fervor he was subjected to held dominion over him.

They were not going to stop—to damnation with the judgment of others. They both subconsciously remembered the century of their existence. Unfortunately, time advanced without Humanity; opposite, Humanity advanced without time. But intricate beliefs and philosophies held a majority of Humanity back.

Unity was a lacking element to Humanity. It was a lacking that proved fatal when the Covenant arrived.

_Clank_. Tyler and Desmond pulled apart, and Tyler spun around and saw Major_ Tyler_ Hauver leaning on the railing next to him. No wet sound remained, so Major Tyler cocked his head around and smiled at the pair. "_Woah_, don't stop for me._ Yours_' is a show not so entertaining to me."

"Sorry, sir," Desmond said as he and Tyler fell into a salute, closing their legs together and breaking their backs in. "We carried away in the moment."

_No regrets, though_, Tyler thought.

"And I care_ why_?" Major Tyler asked, shrugging with a matching curious look etched across his face. "Also, drop the 'sir' title. I'm resigning from the Corps. I'm moving in with Captain Jsarez and friends."

Hauver, to Woodrow, was not the paragon of one who would abandon the Marine Corps. At least, this was appearance, in general. He was SPARTAN-huge, standing over six feet and being broad across his shoulders; his biceps stretched his singlet. His face stood out from most Marines; Woodrow found his sharp features both appealing and distinguishable. His hair was a black curtain and reached down to the top of his eyes. His face was shaven clean of Human foilage; Woodrow found the hair aspect of him less appealing than his face, body, and his Hazel eyes.

"Uh, so . . . you're um . . . joining EDEN?" Desmond asked, leaning against the railing with Woodrow leaning behind him.

"Yes. Well, I mean . . . I don't see much other for me to do," Hauver said. "My family died on Reach and I refuse to contribute to the UNSC. Plus, Captain Jsarez has already promised me a dynamical pay."

" 'Dynamical'?" Desmond rubbed his chin, plucking at his stubble's bristles.

"It can go up and down depending how much of a good boy I am," Hauver clarified. "Indeed, I plan on being a_ very_ good boy."

"_I_ can be a good boy," Desmond beamed.

_Only when you're not in bed_, Woodrow thought, moving up behind Desmond and wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning against him. A passing pilot grunted in revulsion; the three ignored him.

"I take it neither of you kiddies are going somewhere without the other?" Hauver asked, sharing the same playful attitude the duo exhibited.

"Not for a long time," Woodrow said. "But Private Desmond, here, farts enough to make me consider a trip to Germany. I would undertake a trip to Germany if their sausages didn't make the entire population have a_ worse_ gas problem."

Hauver chuckled; Desmond remained silent and in a state of denial of an axiomatic truth. Woodrow and Desmond had an intimate relationship and Desmond would make jokes up about Woodrow, but the diametric mate made japes consisting of the verity.

Woodrow was one for finding flaws in people and using them in a comedic—even offensive—fashion._ It's boring to be safe_, Woodrow repeated his slogan.

Putting aside the joke's humorous effect, Hauver asked, "Do you plan on enlisting with EDEN, uh . . . ?"

"Private Desmond Tucker, Fireteam Ecuador," Desmond introduced himself before cocking his shoulders to indicate Woodrow. "The fucker clinging onto me like a wet cat is my bitch, Sergeant Tyler Woodrow."

Hauver's face paled. "Wow. . . . I wonder what else we share?"

_I can list some comparisons_. "I hear you name your gun," Woodrow said.

"Yeah. Old Faithful remains faithful," Hauver said, narrowing his eyebrows, suspicious as to how deep the rabbit hole went. "You name your gun?"

"Yeah—Eagle-Eye. I sometimes use it to hunt Eagles."

"They're illegal to hunt," Desmond muttered.

Hauver was approaching ire—fast beyond innervation. Evidentially, there could only be one. "Let me guess—you're_ also_ a kidder? You_ sound_ like a kidder?" Hauver's voice fell to a cold whisper. ". . ._ Are you a fucking kidder_?"

"Yes," Woodrow replied dryly. "I hear you are too. . . . This kinda sucks."

"There can only be_ one_!" Hauver hissed, scowling at Woodrow who retained a clear face; Desmond was unsure if the current was a joke or an austere approach on Tyler Hauver's pride.

"I know. Go change your feckin' name," Woodrow deadpanned.

Hauver's bear face inverted; a panoramic smile grew, and he banged his hand on his chest before jabbing a finger at Woodrow. "Wanna grab a beer?"

Woodrow was inclined to agree. Alternatively thinking, he recalled a dangerous outcome_. Lieutenant Colonel Keyes got so drunk she tried to rape the Major here. If it's me trying to do the raping, I will be sentenced to some hard labor for big bubber in return for protection. _

"Just so long as you keep my liquor consummation under control," Woodrow said.

Hauver smiled and pointed at Woodrow again. "Another semblance: We need someone else to keep us from becoming inebriated."

"He also had a booze horde on the_ Kryptonite_," Desmond said as the three broke away from the railing and hastened to the stairway off the landing pad.

"Traitor," Woodrow grumbled.

"_So did I_," Hauver hissed. "Then Keyes extorted me out of it."

"Oh . . . so you both are bitches in the relationship?" Unbeknownst to Desmond, this comparison was equivocal, and the facts were not in his favor. Lynda Keyes and Tyler Hauver were not in a relationship.

"I'm_ not_ the_ 'bitch'_," Woodrow calmly objected, flicking the proposition off like a fly that bugged him. A point he always tried to prove was that blocking anger from his tone gave him more control over the situation as essentially the more ratiocinative one.

Tyler Hauver tensely chuckled as they reached the quadrate platform that divided the stairway into a separate section that led across to the other pads. "Me and Colonel Keyes are not in a relationship. She's not . . . um, not so ideal a mate after she tried to seduce me."

"I think she's too old for you," Woodrow commented. "Don't mind me prying."

"You pry_ as well_?" Hauver inquired; he resumed disposing of his composed state in the act of expressing his profound repugnance at the prospect that someone shared so much with him.

"Are we still going with this joke?" Desmond asked, trailing the group off the staircase and onto the base's expanse; the bar wasn't far, a treat for any tired aviator who just returned home. Australians held liquor to a traditional esteem.

"What joke?" Hauver wondered ignorantly. "We are being_ serious_, okay? I'm_ dead serious_ when I recite my motto: There can only be_ one motherfucking Tyler Hauver_!"

_What a little child_. Tyler Woodrow rolled his eyes and ran his hand over the prickles of his buzzcut. Woodrow only had it cut recently, and upholding something almost of a regulation, Woodrow, on a basis, sought the sensation of the prickles. "My last name's not Hauver, thank God."

"Is . . . is there something wrong with my last name?" Hauver asked. Desmond and Woodrow were both aware that the ex-Major was about to explode into a delirium that bordered between being fabricated and being serious.

"No. I just can't envision my surname being anything other than Woodrow," Tyler Woodrow said.

"Neither can I . . ." A devious smile spread across Hauver's face. "Just . . . the nicknames."

_I had this coming. Nothing bad ever happened to someone unless they drew it on_. Woodrow groaned petulantly.

"I know, right?" Desmond agreed, looking over his shoulder to Woodrow who returned the contemptuous gesture with a countering symbol—his middle digit erected.

"_You can't do that_!"

In concurrence, the three turned to the shout. Over by a pad adjacent to the one the three just left was Staff Sergeant Tom McAllister. He was shadowed by the pad's platform, and he rested against one of the concrete columns holding the pad up. In his hands was a datapad; in his green shaded eyes were tears.

Tom McAllister was young—but he held all the substantive features of an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. Neither Desmond or Tyler Woodrow knew him, but they acknowledged him as an ODST off the bat. A stand-out was the two M6 Submachine gun tattoos running across each side of his clean-shaven jaw. His brown mohawk also gave an indication to what was below the surface.

"SHE'S MY DAUGHTER!" Tom screamed. A muffled response caused him to smash the datapad against the column. He then sat in the dirt and knocked his head softly back against the pillar. Choked gags flared from his dry lips and his feet kicked away the shrapnel of the datapad and unturned the soil.

"Should we—"

Desmond had no time to finish before the two Tylers started towards Tom. Their boots condensed the dirt to smaller particles, and the_ crunching_ of the grass and soil made Tom look up. He knew Tyler Hauver but not Tyler Woodrow, so it was the former who his head cocked to.

Hauver stopped in front of Tom's slumped form. "Yo-you all right, Sergeant?" Tyler Hauver asked worryingly, grabbing Tom's arm and hefting him up to his feet.

"I watched two of my buddies get cut down before me by incursive Covies. And that was only events constricted to the_ Kryptonite_," Tom said, wiping secretion away from his nostrils. "I've lost my family; my girlfriend has married and won't let me see my kid. I'm not good. I'm far from it. I fought for something and that something can't give_ two_ damns—no, they think one is even too much."

Woodrow crossed his arms. Desmond took a more intrigued approach and stopped aside Hauver, his ears agape for information. Humans had a basic scripting that petitioned for them to learn all they could. After adolescence had passed, adults learned what they could in a strategy of supporting their relations.

"You take your girlfriend to_ any_ court," Desmond said, "you employ_ any_ attorney . . . and I guarantee that you'll see your kid."

"If not, go to Captain Jsarez," Hauver added. "She won't allow injustice. That is EDEN's principle. It's not to work for a_ profit_; it's not_ political_ or_ religious_. There's no—"

"St-stop!" Tom held his hand up. He was barely blocking his emotions. "It-it's not based on custody or spite. . . ." Tom's eyes randomly locked with Desmond's and a vibrant fury gleamed from them. "THE FUCKING CUNT_ NEVER_ TOLD MY GIRL ABOUT ME; HER FATHER IS MY GIRLFRIEND'S_ HUSBAND_!"

Passing personnel of the base glimpsed over, but seeing the situation handled, continued with their responsibilities.

_I can't consider someone who would do that a mother_, Woodrow thought bitterly. "That's low." Tyler Woodrow could say no more or no less. Certain times called for certain words.

"Sergeant, for the sake of your daughter, I can't endorse and decision to expose yourself to her," Hauver said, placing a careful hand around Tom's shoulder and shaking him tenderly. "If she grew up with someone else as her father and a complete stranger comes along to contradict an important part of her life, it_ will_ destroy her. I know it's hard, but a father puts his daughter_ before_ himself. Even in the face the injustice, you_ can't_ put yourself first."

"You can still supply them financially," Desmond added supportively. "Your daughter can live a good life. You can't give that up over_ anything_."

_There's always a silver lining_. Tyler Woodrow smiled; relief flushed over him. This event was his own through a mutuality with Tom.

"My girlfriend wants nothing to do with me." Tom was supported back to lean on the column by Hauver. His head hurt; throbbing drew his hand to squeeze the frustration and despair from his mind. "I can throw, hypothetically,_ billions_ at her. She-she'll_ just_ throw it back and yell that I 'ruined her life'."

"Ruined?" Woodrow asked, slightly conscious of Tom's meaning, and expanding his detestable feelings towards his girlfriend with each second that counted away.

"Apparently—no . . ._ not_ apparently. I_ believe_ her, of course. . . . She went through a state of denial and depression when she heard I was_ missing—_not_ fucking dead_. Still, she hated me for leaving her with so much pain. She promised herself that she wouldn't honor me by letting my daughter grow up with my photos and likeness remembered." Tom swung his head around to Desmond. "Your financial support suggestion won't be well-placed since the fucking dick she wedded has gambled away all their money. They're in tight trouble with some gangs. If they're not on the street by the end of the year, they'll be_ dead_!" Tom's voice broke. "_But she won't have anything at fucking all to do with me_!"

"Fuck," Desmond hissed, rubbing his hand over his head to draw out every idea he had. The direness had changed from workaround to urgency. Desmond was afraid; Woodrow was ambivalent about what he could say or do, and Hauver had an intuition.

"This gang? Who are they?" Hauver asked, brushing his hand over his shaved face.

"Oh, fuck . . . I didn't pay much attention to it." Tom shared the same confusion that spread between Desmond and Woodrow.

Hauver, on the other hand, could not cease his queries. "I can hardly provide help like this. Um . . . okay, Does the Chicago Illuminati ring a bell?"

"_The what_?" Desmond sputtered. Woodrow silently agreed._ A gang run by conspiracy theorists from the 21__st__ century? Feckin' hell_.

Tom's face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. Anticipative, he turned to Hauver, eyes enlightening a shared hope to Hauver. "Yes-yes! I-I can't_ not_ de-hear that stupid name!"

Hauver smiled and clicked his fingers. Woodrow would not hold him smarter than he was until he heard an elaborate explanation. "The Chicago Illuminati are a gang mostly domestic to . . ._ Chicago_. But they are pres_e_nt_ all over_ North America."

"Aren't you smart," Woodrow sarcastically murmured.

"Aye, I am. In reality, I just heard this on a news broadcast in the barracks fifteen or so minutes ago," Hauver explained. "Another important detail I—well, everyone in the barracks took this into account. Get this, the gang's headed by First Sergeant Albert Freud's_ sister_!"

"Who?" Desmond asked.

"Fuck. . . ." cursed Tom, mouth spread wide; he closed it quickly when a fly got too close. "He had a_ sister_? Sneaky ass never told me about her!"

"Nothing's more ill-suited than changing the subject, Sergeant," Hauver smiled. "What you can take for certain from me, a possible friend, is that your family_ may_ be safe. How good are you at ass kissing?"

"I can hardly get the shit washed from my mouth, sir," Tom replied, beamish.

Hauver clapped his hands, determined to help Tom McAllister and get behind Albert Freud's cryptic character. "Then you're gonna love my plan."

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Sergeant Tyler Woodrow is an original character of Soul's Release's design. And before you solidify your belief that I made him homosexual to make some digressive point, I ask that you reconsider.

I have over a dozen original characters I need to introduce, develop and set-up for a significant role in this plot. To further strengthen the reader's distinguishing between characters, I need to give them traits, back-stories and attributes that make them stand out.

Soul, hope you aren't bothered by the orientation of your character. Sadly, changing this will be bothersome, so let's hope I didn't miss the wagon of hay.

Thanks go to Joat the Goat for following. I admit, your alias had me chuckling.

I appreciate reviews pointing out typos, canon errors, and grammatical mistakes. Also, please tell me your opinion on how this chapter played with the overall consistency of the story. Is playing ping-pong with the narrative confusing? If so, I'll stop, but progressing certain characters will only decrease in ease.

Thank you** lyndakey1**,** Trusne**,** tmachgaming**,** Starart132 (**Just saw that I've gotten the numbers of your name wrong),** Fleightfire**, and** The Constitutionalist** for your reviews.


	56. That Which We Long

**(-(-(—****[]Thel 'Lodam[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>The three rotations had tardily past. My time philosophy was at hard play in the kinetics of the patterned advance that contributed to time and the relays that expelled intervals through a comprehensive conception: The flow of time.<p>

Upon the tongue of the three rotations was_ asperity_. Adverse to a closer knitted affinity was mindless disputes and sharp-edged words. The unity component of my new-found outlook was exclusively something only_ I_ fought to sustain.

The Unggoy—omitting Yoplap—ranked among the masses unwilling to accept the secret trial; they were insubordinate, and hunger had goaded them to desperate needs. One of the small creatures, Dlapyap, tried to asphyxiate the Kig-Yar, Kri, in his sleep to provide sustenance for his comrades. Kri was in a position he could not escape, but Dlapyap's weak arm from a former injury kept the Kig-Yar from facing death's cold embrace.

Simply put, chaos chose_ us_ as a disposal for its dark matters. In the end, I pulled back from meddling to change it, and ended up only having the Constrictor, Kri, and Suras for socialization. Haphazard conversations drew the hiatus of time away, if only as gradually as a_ Bryskaen_, a slug creature native to Malurok, and a delicacy for Unggoy. The planetoid was host to millions of other different forms of organisms, most being deadly and ripe for blood sport.

I missed hunting. During the process of glassing Human colonies, Sangheili warriors would request impermanent hunting permits for the terrestrial animals. Human colonization was either smartly picked or horribly picked—it relied on the predatory instincts Humans had. Unfortunately for them, they held little-to-no predatory instincts worthy of mention. Their colony choices were_ amateur_; there were still beasts to slay.

Fortune may not be of Humanity's favor, but the air surrounding me was vivacious with the aura of luck. The toes of my hooves would soon compress Sanghelios' soil, and I would feel her sun's beams sparkle my skin to a darker tone. And I would hunt.

Hunting was my passion. Nothing had the right to take my passion but my contradicting motivations that rivaled what a world could hand forth in power. I did my best to avoid any brands of dispute between myself when disputes were a concrete-hard air that enveloped the physical domain surrounding me.

_It is not all argument and hunger_, I reminded myself, relishing in the quite simple yet profoundly complicated moment battling the concrete-hard air. My mandibles clicked together, amused—a force of habit, but not one I reasoned afflicted with repetition.

Kri was unaware that his attempts to seduce the Ibie'shan female, Zaaha'Re, was invoking a primitive sense of awe and humor from me. His passion played with mine; my passion demanded some sport, some darting consumption of time.

Kri appeased my passion exponentially. ". . . Liival City provided for my mother. It was plentiful with jungles and vines I used to entangle myself in when I played with my siblings."

"I visited Liival early in my life," Zaaha'Re replied, picking her lunch from her teeth. "My mother made regular barter travels to Eayn; I hatched and lived in Tasta'na, Muloqt. A wealthy trading capital, you know?"

"You grew_ among_ my breed? I thought another explanation was to your unusual adeptness in the common tongue," Kri said excitingly. I discovered that breeding between subspecies of Kig-Yar was common practice, but it was more difficult with Ibie'shans due to their isolation. Kri was exultant at the idea that one was civilized enough to consider him a mate.

I still found the practice not ideal. I merely crossed my arms and leaned back against the head of the Human cot I sat on, Skae ' Kuzomee's vivid apparition seated next to me, silent as the ghost I theorized he was. The Constrictor was asleep on a bunk opposite of me with Yoplap playing with a gadget on the ground in front of the berth.

Us being around for this debacle did no problems for Kri. As a race, the Kig-Yar, in some strict respects, had little shame. Never did I foresee that_ this_ was only a minor extent of their lack there-of seclusion.

_He could be masking his approaches with our presence_, I theorized._ But surely not even he is that smart._

"It was common for me to befriend other Kig-Yar breeds, yes," Zaaha'Re said lightly, her voice nothing more than a wind patrolling the room's expanses. It was a shift from the usual translated Kig-Yar tone. "There was a great exoticness to anything other than me."

Kri leaned against the edge of the bar framing that held Zaaha'Re's bunk up. "I never thought the same way," Kri admitted, startling me with his calm tone portraying his character unusually._ Why differentiate himself?_

"Not close to the lineaments of his being," 'Kuzomee observed to follow up my words. He knew better than to repeat my thoughts; these were his thoughts he spoke aloud.

Zaaha'Re cocked her head curiously and gently chirped for him to continue. I was as curious. Amusement died for a spark of interest, a dint of hard intrigue on the screen of albescent metal depicting my lighter side.

"I was afraid of those not Ruuhtian," Kri said, shame marking his voice with dots that conjoined to puzzled me. "And being drafted into the Covenant was no welcome change of my life's pace. I_ feared_ for my life . . . I never got far before the worst happened, and fate tossed me into a role bigger than I could ha_ve ever_ dreamed of; a role I_ hated_."

I scorned myself. I felt sympathetic for the Kig-Yar, and I genuinely detested myself for falling under the impression that he wanted to only "_woo"_ Zaaha'Re. Had he only proved himself decorous earlier. I considered him a monumental paragon of not only a decent Kig-Yar but a decent sentient organism. I hoped his next words would not sway me away from this onlook.

Indeed, they did not. "I'm incompetent; I say things I don't mean; I betray myself as a fool, but my academic scores were high." Kri chattered unsettlingly and bit at the broken spines on his elbow, speaking between bites. "Queerly enough . . . I wanted to be a . . . politician over a . . . warrior."

"I'm finding this difficult to sustain," 'Kuzomee said with a wry smile. "I feel your sense of dread. Not all are who they seem,_ are they_?"

Kri pulled a shard of his spine from a jabbing position before prodding himself from the ground up to the rim of Zaaha'Re's bed. It caused her to pull her legs up, either to give space or to avert herself from contacting him for reasons I found daunting on the length's of Kri.

Kri steadied himself and stared into the void, idly rattling the teeth between his beak together before speaking once more. His voice was a whisper that touched the air so gracefully that I was astonished the translation instrumentation on my membrane deciphered his words so elegantly. "I-I . . ._ I_ think you look attractive. . . . I-I request to be your mate_ if_ you are free."

_How trampled._ Kig-Yars were not masters of soothing words relating to their feelings. His offering was pathetic but exceptionally well-done for a Ruuhtian. For Kri's sake, I hoped Zaaha'Re agreed.

The female Ibie'shan studied the anxious Kri carefully; her eyes scanned him over; the male Ruuhtian continued to stare off into the distance. My gut tightened in anticipation, and it only increased in the extreme pinching sensation as Zaaha'Re squirmed. I was deeply disappointed when she lifted her leg up and smashed the clenched claws hanging from her foot across Kri's face, sending him hissing off the bed and tumbling to the frost-cold metal floor.

_Unacceptable!_ I rose to my feet, 'Kuzomee rising with me. I waved a hand to calm the startled Yoplap down and set my crisply angled eyes on to Zaaha'Re, who continued perusing Kri as he cowered away from her.

"That was_ not_ called for!" I growled, the enclosed space of the crew quarters making my voice echo from every surface and rebound to allow me to hear my choler as clear as those not me.

"To deceive me into feeling pity for him, he put on a charade and intended to manipulate me into partnering with him!" Zaaha'Re flung herself from her bunk and steadied her stance once her hooked feet met the ground. She hung her eyes lower and vented what anger she held through her nostrils. "I believed him until he made suggestive sexual approaches on me! He is not the_ first_!" She spat the final words.

The commotion had woken the Constrictor. He watched on in both confusion and understanding of what he didn't know but what was so obvious that it became known to him; deep roots sprung to life in his augmented perception relays.

"I am a fair judge of character as per my opinion," I said, "and there was_ no_ lie in his words! I overheard him admiring your body, but it is not unnatural—many have confided in me before, and they speak of their admiration but use ease with the treat of their eyes."

Zaaha'Re titled her head Kri's way. "I am sorry. I misjudged your intentions."

"Forget my offer if you were ever thinking it over," Kri said spitefully, eyes frowned like sharp gems. "I want nothing to do with an insecure female." Kri twirled his tongue bitterly as the last words bounced from it. He climbed to his feet. Holding his bleeding face, he left the room without another word.

"A lost romance," 'Kuzomee said nonchalantly. "Sad."

I agreed profoundly with the ghost's word—"ghosts" being a lightly used word not solidified into a single context or dictatorial role._ Alas, the fallout of misconception_, I thought, the Prophet's lies in retrospective and the Covenant a lingering darkness.

After a few counts past Kri's clearance of the room's entrance, Zaaha'Re recovered her senses and grunted with neither remorse or self-contempt to bring clarity to her vocalization. "I know him least of all." She sat on the edge of her berth, hanging her head like curtains; her scales were an attention-seeking pattern. "Will he reverse his anger to understanding and allow me to speak with him? At a later time?"

"_You_ know him most of all," I said. "I apologize; this is_ your_ battle."

Zaaha'Re shrugged—a very_ Human_ gesture—and relaxed into her bunk. She soon drifted to sleep. The Constrictor followed with Yoplap climbing onto his bunk and curling up at the foot of the bed. He dozed off in moments. He was a lazy creature.

'Kuzomee had nothing more to say. I made my disinterest in conversing with him apparent with a grunt as I pushed myself from the berth and took a few strides, stopping above the mattress on the ground and dropping onto it with a_ thump_. 'Kuzomee had no mortal needs to attend. He relaxed into the bunk and meditated. My theory of him as a ghost ended when he never left me—he left my side, but he_ never_ disappeared._ He is a mortal visible only to me_, I thought. Physical contact with any other animate being was not a sight I saw nor wanted to see. Would one touch_ air_ or_ him_?

It made me recall moments of my life where I heard tales of ghosts and phantoms from my uncle, my trainer—possibly my father, but I had doubt. We were two individuals with no correlation other than that of the relation status.

Nonetheless, we agree on one thing: Tales were art. My uncle would tell of ghosts. These tales did nothing—they overcame prosperity and reeked of superstition._ I still loved it_. I remembered my past, feeling the same joy at remembering the stories that I felt tens of cycles ago when I heard them for the first time.

Ghosts were evil; they were peaceful at times, but mostly antagonists to the stories of ancient Sangheili on quests to restore order to their incoherent States, or to track down adversaries for retribution. Figures—the young always got told the most ill-written tales. I didn't care._ That is nostalgia speaking_, I thought. At a length, I was frightened that I found another flaw in myself but thrilled that I was not perfection. As if it were not already obvious.

I fell asleep with the memories of my past in mind and the thoughts of home's ever growing presence exhilarating me. I was so anxious that I could hardly close my eyes. Sleep still came to me, and I slept for a near unit before a tap on my forehead woke me up.

The Constrictor was lucky my reflexes knew that no danger could come to me; he could had lost function of the provocative leg in a very imprudent way. If his reflexes surpassed mine, I would be more infuriated.

_But what does he want?_ I asked myself in lieu of asking him. Soon there would be an answer, but one made a brief appearance as I clambered up and spotted Zaaha'Re and Yoplap leaving the room. The Constrictor stole my glance with a click of his tongue.

He was a hard Human to read. Judging Humans was a limited trait I mustered, but it was there, and I used it. But sometimes it didn't succeed in its quest—now was a present example. His right eye was covered by what he called an "eye patch" and his good left pale blue eye only told me that cyphering happened to his essence.

His face told the same story his eye did. His complexion was as white as clouds; his skin was loose with age. He was an albino; he had white fur trailing his head and the upper top of his lip. For a race that was ugly, he was_ hideous_.

"How's your brain functioning?" he asked. His voice was like rocks rubbing together; I was sensitive to such sounds. The voice filtering component of my translating gimmick wasn't dynamical.

"A Human was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes," I said, massaging the side of my neck to release the cramp of the muscles. "Take that as you will."

"The Monarch summoned us all to the bridge." The Constrictor eyed the intercom speaker behind me, inbuilt into the wall. "You were still asleep, so I woke you."

_That was not smart._ "Don't be so eager next time," I admonished him, not near firmly enough. I was toying with him. Maybe it wasn't so smart if I had the representations of our past in mind.

"The Monarch says that we're approaching a drop to Urs," he continued, ignoring me. "You're almost home. Sorry if I jinx it."

I huffed and shuddered at the prospect—I would kill him if it became_ a certainty_. "It is the acknowledgment of misfortune shadowing us that encourages it." I spun around and strode from the barracks. The Constrictor and 'Kuzomee followed suit.

The corridors of the_ Isigrass_ reminded me of the tubing that gave life to a plasma rifle. Pre-military training required weapon maintenance, and the inner workings of_ every_ Covenant weapon was familiar to me.

The plasma rifle, in particular, varied with models. One of my favorite models had certain thermionic tubes that split to smaller plasma chambers but were all connected to one "highway". As a juvenile, I was transfixed in the systems of the weapons and enjoyed those lessons from my uncle above all others. I was now disgusted that so much of the Forerunner's interpretations went to raging a war on their progenies.

The sensation that each passing count brought us nigher to Sanghelios was an inexact one. A longing homesickness did wonders in what was physically debatable. So came anxiety on both sides of the spectrum—and clashed. Fear and excitement were one in the same.

We all assembled on the bridge. Suras kept close to the five Unggoy that were not Yoplap to avoid another incident with Kri. Freyn and Anve stood side-by-side with Kri resting on the console of a Human navigational station. He stubbornly pretended that he was the only Kig-Yar on this vessel.

The Constrictor fell in with Zaaha'Re and Yoplap. I joined them. 'Kuzomee had no choice but to follow. Getting bored with watching my hooves move before one another, I looked up at Qrs and Krnat 'Xerosai. The duo gazed upon the drifting Monarch as he serviced several stations before relocating himself to the center of the bridge. All eyes were on him.

The Monarch's center eye rotated around to examine the audience. "Excellent." He came to a stop when the glow of his blue eye hit the edge of Qrs' shadow. "Everyone is here." No joy was in his scraping metal voice, only an atmosphere of being ancient, faithful to his origins.

"No rational causative for delays," the Monarch added. "Straight to the point: Do not inform Kaidon 'Vadam of the content of this vessel's database. Do I need to elaborate why disclosing the information you know to him is ill-advised?"

Not for me. I had it decided that an akin situation to this would be the center focus and debatable disceptation between us all. It was a rod put between us to divide us further and force contravention. Damaging works.

"No need," Anve said.

"Speak for yourself, Sangheili!" Kri hissed, still a sour taste lingering over the non-rejoiceful circumstances of his and Zaaha'Re's division. "I need to know exactly_ why_ I cannot speak of Humanity's errors._ My_ race suffers as well as_ any_!"

"Me also confused," Yoplap said timidly. He found his courage when the Constrictor placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know little. . . . But I know me race are dying 'cause Humans are mean . . . and is bigger bully than Sangheili—WAIT!" He put his fat arms up and looked over his methane tank at the Constrictor. "Not_ all_ Humans bad!"

"Precisely," Qrs said, his voice calling to alarm everyone's attention; when he spoke, others listened patiently and quietly. It was something I envied to have.

"Kaidon 'Vadam ceasing with only the Reclaimer's Office of Naval Intelligence is a_ bold_ speculation," the Monarch continued for Qrs. "That is in the case that the Arbiter misplaces his by far non-belligerent approach on the Reclaimers. If he does, there is a number of conclusions: Humanity will defeat the Sangheili at an incredible loss to the comprising elements of their military structure. Or the Arbiter will subjugate other races again for his war machine._ Or_ he will attempt and prevail in consolidating most—if not_ all—_Sangheilian splinter factions."

"A bloodbath either way." I turned to the five Unggoy huddling around Suras' legs. "For the sake of your race,_ do not_ mention Humanity in a negative light. If one inquires you for information, say_ nothing_ and act oblivious until further notice from me. Do you understand?"

They all looked to each other for answers._ That is a no._ "Suras." I raised my head to one of my only remaining friends. "Guide them._ Watch_ over them. Can you?"

He nodded, confident in himself, but doubtful. I hated putting so much pressure on him. I had more pressure applied to my shoulders in the past, and it was damaging—it changed me. For the better? _No_! But I am the person I am today for it. I urged fate to allow that to be a means to something good in this corrupt existence.

"You're not in your league, 'Lodam," Anve said, biting his mandibles together and hissing with each breath. "You are in charge no more."

Qrs shook his head in one single motion. He was not overzealous in using consecutive movements for emphasis. He said, "Longing to fester the irrelevant is a sin. Be quiet and allow this talking to proceed."

Anve gestured apologetically, bowing his head to show both reverence and to demonstrate that he considered himself beneath Qrs.

Qrs disregarded his apology and fitted his body to a position that he could see both Kri and Zaaha'Re. "Is there some apprehension that could overcome the density of the neurological structure? Or am I about to partake in a preaching to the immoveable?"

"I understand," Kri said assuringly. "I won't do anything to endanger my race."

"Same," Zaaha'Re added briskly. "A CSO-class supercarrier arrives in your system and offers protection for warriors—preferably veterans of the Covenant. Think of me as you may, but I only ever had my race's_ best_ interest in mind."

"And the truth arises," 'Kuzomee said, breaking his silence but not deterring my attention.

"An understanding has been met." Qrs swiftly snaked his head around to meet the eye of the Monarch; the Forerunner Associated Intelligence hadn't moved. He showed profession in the slightest actions. "A stable plan must be erected upon the backs' of all our endorsements. Oracle, plan layout?"

"None as of now. But be at repose with the abstruseness of the emerging future," the Monarch said. "As of this moment, foundations are placements and I am screening several paths." The Monarch turned to look out of the bridge's viewport. "There is no time to explain." A slipspace portal cracked open, splitting a hole in this dimension to the next. It was blue with purple energy crackling around it and a black ellipse enveloped by the blue. It was our portal to the_ real_ vacuum of space.

We all braced as the ship rocked to the rough transition from the slipspace to the void; the viewport was on the craft's stem, so it entered and cleared first. My eyes laid on my home for the first time in cycles. Two gray satellites orbited the red sphere, giving the night its peaceful gloom and leaving something for exploration; for discovery_._ I always looked to the stars for answers to a broad question: "What is out there?"

And I did so again but with a longing for home.

Sanghelios. My mandibles clicked a smile into place, and a graceful touch brushed across my hearts. I had not seen Sanghelios since before the commencement of the war, near twenty-five cycles ago. Seeing it in all its resplendence with zero change to the healthy red haze that thickened its atmosphere was reassuring and took me to a place my mind scarcely allowed me to retreat to so scantily.

Glee turned to anxiety as a CAS-class carrier descended towards our insignificant ship. Albeit, the Prowler's nature changed everything that size could throw against logic—a common battle. I saw it in play too much for it to be entertaining.

"Oracle." Qrs walked over to the communications station. I and others rushed to join him, all eager to hear what words the carrier would direct to us. Nothing substantial, just nature in us acting out. "Hailing is protocol per Human-Sangheili truce."

"They_ are_ hailing us," the Monarch confirmed. "I'm rising firewalls to stop them accessing this ship's contents if they try; I will open up a transmission channel in a moment. . . . Will you communicate with them, Qrs?"

"Yes."

"One moment. . . . The channel is open."

A voice straight off echoed through the bridge, howling like a wind crying from the slopes of mountains. I was beyond confused; my translation device hooked in my hearing membranes translated the Shipmaster's voice; he was speaking_ Human_ words. "Humans, this is the_ Shadow of Intent_. Take heed and respond to every question with no lick of hesitation in your voice. You are unregistered, and no prescience came with your approach, and you are in unauthorized vectors."

_He has the voice of the one who arrested me years back. What was his name?_

"Rtas 'Vadum," Qrs spoke into the slim communications console; every word he said made the lit buttons on the console flash green to give him feedback on his message's lengths. "Qrs 'Jaragsai. Am I a forgotten spectre, Commander?"

There was a count of heavy breathing before a burst of shock erupted through the console. "_Qrs_?! By the_ Gods_! You were dead?!"

There were numerous contexts that remark fell to. But amusing thoughts aside, I took a rather keen interest in the smaller carriers that were now retreating from an intercepting course. We were safe. I still couldn't take my eyes off Sanghelios; I only noticed the carriers out of the corner of my eyes. That was dangerous.

"A preferred fate." That was insightful and alarming all in one combination of cold deadness to Qrs' tone, a tone that I could not decipher. "Now, enough relishing in a welcomed surprise, Commander, there is much to tell about issues you are aware of."

"That is_ double_ on my side," 'Vadum replied, his voice all authority. A natural commanding voice. "But I have my duties. The carrier languishing off your port side, the_ Deadly Indulgence_, will escort you to the surface." He spoke to himself. "This is among the most splitting surprises. . . ." He returned his words to Qrs as the_ Shadow of Intent_ broke off to continue its patrol. "I hope to speak with you personally soon, Operative."

"Likewise, Commander," Qrs replied. He switched the console off and turned to the Monarch, giving him a single nod to task the Prowler to fall in with the designated carrier. And send us home. And to the State of Vadam, no doubt. To the Arbiter, Thel 'Vadam.

_Answers are copious: Rtas 'Vadum arrested me when the High Council charged me with heresy after failing to kill the Demon_, I recalled. Promptly, my thoughts on the Commander were better than they could have been: He expressed agreement that the High Council needed a scapegoat and that they nominated me. He sided with me

Qrs served under Rtas for a time. His skills gained him notoriety, and he gained command of a unit. But the inexperience of his men casted an inevitable failure over his head, and the inevitable was hard to deny—what was destined to happen always_ happened_.

Qrs survived becoming an Arbiter by killing an assassin who took advantage of his hearing. Pleased, the Hierarchs gave him a chance of salvation if he tracked down and brought the aggressors to their knees. He did, discovering in the process that they were a Sangheilian-devoted following with the mindset that the Covenant attenuated the Sangheili.

_Unfortunately, the heretics were right_, I thought, biting my mandibles together. The irony was almost too much to handle. Irony was an adversary. From being saved by the Demon to becoming the thing I despised the most, I was shadowed by more than what Humans refer to as "karma"—the Covenant preferred the term "fate." It went with destiny; it was inevitable.

"Fate had it that I was to die?" 'Kuzomee asked, letting his pitch lower to the sound of a musical melody. "I was destined to die?" I didn't reply. "I could agree with that. I do more good in death than in life, 'Lodam, so don't feel remorse for me."

To dispense of the silence that was an invisible mist around the bridge, I spoke in thought of Human accounts on Rtas; a "file" on him existed in the_ Isigrass'_ computers. "He sounded not like one lacking mandibles."

"Versatility," Qrs said, deliberately undefined in what he spoke. "He has the versatility any commander only craft illusions of acquiring. He survived the war on that alone, fortune a tributary part and culminating in strategy."

"He thinks Vale is alive," Suras said ruefully, eyes hung low. I joined in on his reminiscent journey, Vale's personality hitting my mind hard and bringing my hearts lower in weight.

"He will be disappointed," Qrs said, assisting the Monarch in following the coordinates to Vadam Keep. Time passed by, and silence fell over the bridge like sunset. The Unggoys were led back below by Suras and the Constrictor. Kri and Zaaha'Re left soon after, each not acknowledging the other.

Qrs, Krnat, Anve, Freyn, and I remained on the bridge—'Kuzomee was with me, but I didn't count him for much. We all stared at the growing planetoid—the home for most of us. Regardless, all roads led to Sanghelios. I was near sad that Humanity didn't hold Earth to the same height. Inner-conflict. If the Covenant did anything advantageous, it was creating an amalgamate Sangheili.

As each count ring past, Sanghelios grew closer in size and scale. The atmospheric haze clouding the planet cleared up and the continents became visible. Jadri, our destination of Yermo, Tolvuus, the Palaraa islands that formed like teeth off the Isle of Alytcos, and my home of Kaepra. It would be a while before I would rest under the tree of my Keep, but the wait would be worthwhile. And I had the expectancy that judging the Arbiter would be crucial for whatever plans the Monarch had.

The red planet rotated slowly. Nothing had changed through the years. A larger fleet presence was all the change, and one I found agreeable. There was no large fleet because_ this_ section split off to form_ that_ faction and_ that_ faction stole_ those_ ships—it was a loop, a loop of death._ Like a Halo_.

Bitter thoughts. The planet seamlessly transitioned into land and Phantoms, and Spirits replaced the_ Indulgence_ as it returned to orbit. The land was a nostalgic and gorgeous view. There were interminable plains with red grass blending in with the beasts that grazed the grass and forest with dark-green canopies and settlements resting on their lips. Roads created mazes through the forests. There were lakes and oceans with harbors and ports dotting the coastlines with roads connecting them to the settlements and Mount Kolaar.

Mount Kolaar. Embedded in the lower slopes of the mountain was Vadam Keep. In that Keep would be the Arbiter. The Prowler almost had as much ambition to seek his audience as we had as it zoomed through the planet's airspace, casting a rapid moving shadow across the land that tracked after the vessel.

Soon the Keep's scale grew, and we entered laboring air-traffic lanes. I stared out the viewport at the towers of the Keep as the Monarch zigzagged the prowler through the towers, taking routes only designated to authoritative servants.

The main tower of the Keep was now our destination. The Monarch left the_ Isigrass_ on automatic piloting and followed us to the bay where everyone had amassed. Krnat was practically beaming in movement, but everyone else kept their exterior emotions internally unseeable.

Moments after we all gathered, the ship rocked, touching down on the tower's landing pad. The Monarch connected back up to the vessel's systems and lowered the bay's ramp. Sanghelios' sun—its_ actual sun—_shone through and hit our skin, and the screaming wind of Kolaar followed with the rays, welcoming us home. Jol should had been here. Vale should had been here._ All_ of the Diverted should have been_ here_, on Sanghelios, the home to a significant portion of them!

"They just let us land with no further inquiry?" Freyn wondered aloud. "This Arbiter is faulty."

"Did he read 'Vadam's file?" 'Kuzomee asked with half a chuckle.

"Incorrect. A Reclaimer Ancilla was attempting to breach this vessel's firewalls," the Monarch said. "It handled security for the Sangheili and allowed them to focus on escorting us. They cooperated excellently!"

"_Human Ancilla_?" Freyn hissed, bending his neck to a hinge over his shoulder. "Humans are_ here_?"

"Correct. A localized delegation is collaborating with Kaidon 'Vadam's security forces," the Monarch said. "The delegation is headed by a Rear Admiral Horatio Temkin." The Monarch's eye searched for the Constrictor; upon finding him, he asked, "Are you acquainted with that name?"

"No."

The Monarch hummed like a broken communications device and allowed the topic to die. Several Sangheili funneled into the bay, carbines and plasma rifles lifted at us. They spread throughout the bay, examining the area and suppressing us into a tight circle. Some had plasma launchers raised at the Monarch.

_They know_. The Monarch was in danger. His "rampancy" saw a downward spiral to the point where one would be exhausted trying to prove that it even existed. The Monarch was a matter that needed handling—just not now, not when so much more beckoned.

A Sangheili Commander in crystal-blue armor and enwrapped in a cloak marched up the ramp, two Humans behind him. I watched amusingly as the small creatures locked eyes on the Monarch and the Constrictor.

"They betray their knowledge," 'Kuzomee said.

"Names, in a fashioned order." The Sangheili pointed to an idle Major off the ramp's control console. "Write them down as they so declare."

The Sangheili Major nodded and produced a hand-held information device, his fingers wriggling over the screen and ready to enter names as given. It was a device I found unfamiliar._ Eight years is a long time_.

The Commander pointed to Krnat first. "Declare yourself."

Krnat saluted. His body straightened; he stood above us all with humility. "Special Operations Officer Krnat 'Xerosai!"

The Commander nodded before jabbing out both his arms in the direction of Suras and Qrs. "Declare yourselves!"

Suras entered into a stiff salute. "Minor Suras 'Johanam."

Qrs remained in the same stance he always kept—straight, expressionless, and commanding. He said, "Special Operations Officer Qrs 'Jaragsai."

Next came Anve. He followed Qrs' example by not entering a salute. "Anve 'Lodam, ex-Minor of the Covenant!"

The Commander nodded and gestured towards Freyn and me. "Names? Declare them now."

"Ultra Thel 'Lodam," I said, not bothering with a salute but instead bowing my head. Deferential bowing was more traditional of Sangheili customs than saluting was. Saluting was a Covenant induced theme, and the others had no idea that they were encouraging it.

"Minor Freyn 'Okran," Freyn said, saluting and giving me a glance for not saluting as well._ The joke is on you, brother_.

The Commander nodded and pointed at all the Unggoy. "Names, small ones!"

"Teped!"

"Ulpad,_ Minor_!"

"Yoplap!"

"Dlapyap!"

"Yapyap!"

"_Duyap_! YAY!"

"What?!" 'Kuzomee scoffed, his voice slammed into the air and swooped through it like an energy blade.

The Commander moaned indifferently, turning to Kri and Zaaha'Re—the latter stole his attention due to her biological phylogenetic connection. "Your names?"

"Kri, Minor."

"Zaaha'Re, product of interest."

The Commander cocked his head, confounded. "What?"

"I was implying that you are probably going to chuck me in a cell," she clarified petulantly. "I had an allegiance contract with the Contestants of the Reverent Dawn. Contemptible name, but proficient in a certain artistry."

The Commander signaled for her arrest with a clenched fist. Three Minors approached Zaaha'Re with raised carbines and plasma rifles. She grunted with enmity and raised her hands over her head; the three Minors moved in. They grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her to the ground, securing holographic bands around her arms and slipping shielding caps over her claws.

Last was the Constrictor. The Commander stepped around to face him. He crossed his arms and looked the Human over intently. "You?"

"Lieutenant Davis Larson, Codename 'the Constrictor,' renegade of the Office of Naval Intelligence." The Constrictor looked mistrustfully upon the pair of Humans. "However long_ that_ lasts."

"And that is_ all_?" the Commander asked, demand in his tone, setting alight a fire—I was growing out of discipline, and authority over me was as foreign as Human interaction lately was. "You all come from a large fleet? What_ happened_?"

"Ask your Human_ friends_," I stabbed a finger at the Human duo. "They know. But to answer your question: The_ Second Fleet of Divine Trinity_ is all but dust, and Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee is_ dead_." My voice almost broke as I said the last words, but my uncle taught me that composure in all situations was vital. His lessons never failed me.

The Commander lost composure though and was, at first, appalled. He calmed himself and turned to the two Humans by his side. He towered over them. "The Arbiter will want to speak with you later,_ Admiral_." He practically_ spat_ the words. "This is out of taste." He twisted his neck around to us, pulling his head along with it. "You all will follow—except the Oracle. He will remain on this ship. The rest will follow; the Arbiter is awaiting you."

We all followed. The Monarch remained behind. Several more Lances entered the prowler to guard the Monarch. A Lance escorted Zaaha'Re through a subsidiary entrance into the tower. The main detachments of Lances led us to the main entrance. The doors hissed open, and the_ sweet_ smell of spices and incenses from around Sanghelios besotted into me, squaring me into a phase of beatitude at the notion that we were_ home_.

_A home ravaged by war_, I reminded myself, trying not to get too enthusiastic._ A war the Office of Naval Intelligence will pay for in blood._

I smiled._ We are not the only ones probing for their blood._

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><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

When on the learning edge of the educational system, there are guidelines put in place. A prominent one—that carries over to my hobbies—is to not over-think the work you are doing. The TAFE course I am doing got the better of me because _I_ tried to get the better of _it_.

And there is the answer to what I call a delay. I think "delay" works because, according to my story, the last update was on the 5th; its the 15th as I write this Author's Note.

I'm going to cut straight to the point. Thank you **Soul's Release**, **Starart132**, **Trusne**, **Fleightfire**, **Tmachgaming**, and **The Constitutionalist **for reviewing last chapter. I'd also like to thank **Joat the Goat **for reviewing chapter 37 and pointing out some mistakes that I am already aware of—still good to have someone spot them whether I corrected them in a following chapter or not. I'll be sure to fix up what he mentioned when I catch up to it in the revisions.

Special thanks go to **Tmachgaming **for proofreading this chapter. I hope, together, we limited what flaws there are. Again, reviews are highly appreciated from all who can manage them.


	57. A Leonardo da Vinci Reference

**(-(-(—****[]Thel 'Lodam[]****—)-)-)**

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><p>On the outside, the tower was coated with solid purple metal composition and had external protruding appendages. Each appendage had their own goal: Communications antenna, plasma exhaust rods that discharged supernumerary fluids into the sky. Some attachments existed as ornamentations rather than utilized accessories.<p>

The inner workings that hollowed out the tower were majestic far more by the traditional Sangheilian theme. The surface and foundations were of Covenant renovation, but hides of slain animals hung like tapestries from the walls and were laid flat on the ground. Paintings of long dead Kaidons, such as the likes of the legendary Ther 'Vadam, were placed evenly along the walls for all to see.

Curtains were strung up to shield the halls from the hot sun; an old Sangheilian architectural design of leaving certain passages exposed wasn't wiped clean by the San'Shyuum. It was all nostalgic filled, and it told me a lot about the Arbiter, Kaidon Thel 'Vadam—I needed to know_ a lot_.

The Arbiter's upkeep of what made us who we were without the San'Shyuum's aid was displayed for all in the inanimate slot. Animate fell to laying eyes on him for the first time which made me deduce that there could be no doubt of his inclination. Thel 'Vadam, in place of donning the honorary Arbiter attire—an armor I envied—wore an armor that reeked of homage to ancient outfitting that Sangheili adorned at a time pre-dating the Covenant. Gilded plating was slung over chainmail; a large pauldron clung between his cervix and shoulder. His helmet stood out more than the other lustrous examples of his honor; the headdress was angular and drew back behind his neck, fitting in spaciously with the closely situated spines reaching from his back.

The room the Arbiter stood in was domed with the shaft of the concavity abstracted to allow light; the walls were additionally removed, substituted by pillars that held the upper structure of the ellipse up. The sun made its presence, the rays striking every corner and edge of the Arbiter's armor and being thrown in all directions, illuminating the gold in a dramatic sight for the eyes.

The Arbiter stood on a dais at the center of the room, fingers stretching to the holographic buttons of the terminal projection screen that engulfed him; hardlight blue particles formed objects and items, displaying them for the Arbiter. He did not regard us as we were escorted in and firmly given the order to halt.

Guards armed with spiked staves came forth and held their weapons to bear on us; one thrust would see a gruesome end to us all. My eyes searched for answers in the chance that the Arbiter was not going to live up to Vale Nar 'Sarasee's words. Years changed people and Thel 'Vadam was plausibly the most subjective to change.

_But some things never change_, I concluded, feeling as though the thought was not my own, but another's. . . .

There was no escape. The staves would be knocked away by our shields if there were not pellucid beams being drawn to us from projectors embedded in the arch of the oval doorway behind us. The blurred rays encompassed us, and our shields fluctuated and fell.

Trust was a major issue in Sangheilian society as of late; Human meddling made us insecure as a species. I was not offended by the security measures. I was impressed that the Arbiter enacted on the necessary lengths. Albeit, I had no incertitude that he would face down an assassin honorably. But the concept of doubt was a trick of the mind and lasted forever as opinion. Only fools intertwined fact with opinion.

Several counts forward of our forceful emplacement, the Arbiter swooped his hand horizontally, a motion that sent the hardlight projections whizzing away in the direction of his hand; disappearing with the projections was the blue gleaming light bouncing from the screens in every direction. The Arbiter revolved around to us and crossed down the dais' ramp; his every movement rattled his armor and fiddled with my focus. He was a joy to behold, but I should not have been keeping my sight lasting on him when death faced us at every angle. I stretched my neck back, pulling my head with it; I spotted Qrs 'Jaragsai from the corner of my eye. He never let his body tell his emotions, but I could still tell when he was alarmed—alas, he was not alarmed._ Could his judgment be flawed, though? _

"Do some among you still believe in fate?" The Arbiter stopped before us, but not close. His head was hung high, and his slant eyes met us with a serene devotion to unwrapping us from our mysterious bindings. "Or do those standing before me comprise of Sangheili too wary to hold down any belief extracted from the Covenant?"

I was the first to speak—before Qrs, ahead of Anve. They either felt it beyond them to speak or had no matching to my speed. "To some level, I do."

The Arbiter allowed his eyes to switch formally from all of us to me alone. He held down his stare for three counts before speaking again, his voice relaxing me with its soothing and commanding quality. "We had a mutual friend, Thel 'Lodam." His eyes studied me—or more the dark purple blood discoloring my undersuit. I only now noticed it "Is that Vale's blood?"

_Gods. . . . I'm with his essence!_ I trembled. I didn't know if anyone saw; the Arbiter didn't show any observance of it. It didn't matter. I hoped the alpha affair would pry me from the vivid memories of Vale Nar 'Sarasee bleeding out in my arms, choking on his blood as he spewed it from his mouth. "Yes. He died in my hold." I frowned, scrutinizing the Arbiter and not being discrete about it. "You already_ know_?"

"I received word from Human representatives not long pass," the Arbiter said lightly.

_Interesting._ I craned my head around to look upon the crystal armor-clad Commander. He was surprised, but he kept the surprise to himself which was dissimilar to our preparatory meeting. Commendable; learning from your old errors moved you forward in life. My own philosophy but probably also something Vale tended to think.

I turned back to the Arbiter. He also looked to the Commander behind us, but they shared a correlative trust. But it remained that the Arbiter didn't hold the Commander to enough trust to permit the disclosing of Vale's death to him. "Is it only you who knows?" I inquired delicately—I couldn't be too conservative on the ground I walked.

The Arbiter nodded, entering a pace back-and-forth in front of us. "Yes—before you protest, know that my motives were defined. I always have my reasons, Ultra 'Lodam, no matter what. You see it one way, but however you see it, I promise there is little truth to it." The Arbiter stopped pacing and turned to face me again. He flexed his hand out towards me. "Indulge me."

"Is Vale's body being returned?"

"His and Jol 'Turasee's." The Arbiter's eyes went dead for a moment. He came to his senses and let his voice break the howling of Kolaar's wind. "They are not alone. You know what I speak, no?"

"Something along the lines," I said. Qrs had no problems with me taking over in addressing the Arbiter for all of them. An accelerating time would see scorn come from Anve and Freyn. "I presume that if the tidings of Vale's body being returned to his home were public, many would fight for possession of it. Martyring him will be their plans; they will promulgate that their_ false_ Gods sent the body their way and that it was a message. That is why you kept it a secret. For as long as it was not in your possession, it was in danger of becoming a recruitment drive." I hissed as I poked my head towards the Arbiter. "Make it known that the Contestants of the Reverant Dawn gave him the kiss of death."

"No," the Arbiter said; his phonation was not breaking with his decline—I wondered if he ever lost the pitch that he masterfully kept. "The view of the public on me is not detained. It falls to one calling and is quick and ready to move on to the stronger voice. We are now a race that follows the toughest. I am outspoken. Doing further damage by pointing fingers will impair me." The Arbiter crossed his arms. He acted more and more like Vale with each passing gesture, word, and breath. "And I will not use Vale's body as a means for bartering support. No matter these are. The Humans assert that the Contestants are quite literally dust."

"So you know all about the events?" I asked. Now that I realized that here came the time for crucial words and an effort to time those words, I put extra effort into pacifying myself. I didn't want to lie to the Arbiter of all people; lies were the beginning of a long road of tension that would always end in_ death_ when in this passage.

The Arbiter turned and crept up the ramp that outlined the dais. He spun back around when he reached the elevated platform, his eyes falling on all of us and he began to study, watch, and assess. It was intimidating. "They sang me a song I kept to myself. Not even my closest allies know. I mused on the results of both decisions. As one might suspect, they were both flawed, but the final end was less flawed, the backlash more easy to adjust to."

"What exactly did they tell you about when put towards_ us_?" I asked.

The Arbiter rubbed his lower mandibles; a smile formed at the angle of his jaw. He was in the process of accumulating the desired paths of his strategy. He wisely asked, "You tell me."

_He suspects the Humans_, I realized, discomfited in the situation and ambivalent on how to proceed. I thought up the best excuse I could and put it into a dangerous practice. "There was a mistake; a misconception on my part. As per their security protocols, their De— SPARTANs came towards me, weapons raised. I mistook this as an aggressive approach when one moved abruptly. Miscommunication. I apologize."

_And was I close?_ I wondered. I raised my head to meet the Arbiter's. He showed no reaction besides a curious hum. I was growing impatient—another force of habit, and one I craved the riddance of as soon as possible. "What tale did the Humans spring? Am I lying in your eyes?"

The Arbiter spoke, nothing betraying him—no movement, no speech, no gesture. He was as still as a ghost. The thought of ghosts reminded me of 'Kuzomee, who was still by my side, silent. "I won't tell you. But a hint is in order, I believe." The Arbiter moved down from the dais, stopping in front of us again. "I am not surprised."

_That could mean so many things!_ An inner rage demanded me to protest, but I kept my senses and bowed my head in respect for his decision. Tension rose again when the Arbiter cocked his head in the Constrictor's direction. Intrigue never died for Thel 'Vadam. Neither in me, for he spoke the Human tongue and, of course, surprised me. "You look remarkably intact for one I scissored in two not long ago."

_The inconvenience!_ The Constrictor kept his calm outward appearance in spite of the Arbiter's claim. He crossed his arms; the Arbiter mimicked him, but putting a more bitter passion into it. Defeated, the Human said, "I'm getting killed a lot, these days."

The Arbiter tilted his head. All delectation died to be replaced by a serious coloring of his skin as blood inundated burningly through his veins. "Were it so easy, I would end your life_ right now_. But that would make the verity of who tried to kill me harder to collect and exploit," the Arbiter said, folding his hands in front of him as he spoke. "Who are you, Human? Why are you_ here_ when your body is on a_ slab_?"

"Take me to the body, and I'll tell you," the Constrictor said.

Immediately, the Arbiter waved for the Commander. He came forth, eroding a face of disarray that his Kaidon gave in to the demands of a Human—or what was, outside, a Human. "Take the Unggoy to a compatible bio-dome; feed them, replenish their methane deposit." The Arbiter swooped his gaze across us all. "Any who wish to accompany the Unggoy may do so. But a curiosity attracts an audience. For those reasons, I doubt the Sangheili portion of you will pass this chance."

"I will go with the Unggoy; a friendly face is their comfort zone," Suras 'Johanam said.

"So be it." The Arbiter nodded before turning in a direction opposite us as Suras, the six Unggoy—including the reluctant Yoplap—were led from the chamber. The massive doors screeched closed, and as they did, the projectors crippling our shields died, and the guards resumed a tranquil state save one, who kept his stave targeted at the Constrictor.

"Follow me." The Arbiter led us deeper into the chamber, around the dais. We all followed at the beckoning of the red guards with wide white chevrons splitting the color of their armor into two. The pattern was peculiar, but the armor's design seemed Covenant._ A future version of my armor_, I concluded.

We reached the polar end of the chamber and exited out onto a balcony, through two pillars arching and connecting high above us, holding the dome's shaft up with the assistance of the other evenly distributed columns circling back around the border of the exposed chamber. On the railed balcony was an opening that allowed accession to a swirled stairway leading around the exterior of the tower. On the_ Isigrass'_ approach to the tower, before we descended to the bay, I saw the stairway wrapping around the tower like a strangling serpent. I wondered, at the time, why it was so unprotected if it was a pinnacle method of transversal.

"This is an assassin's advantage," Anve noted, considerably alarmed but not breaking the reposeful screaming of the current of the wind as it was thrown from Kolaar's cliffs and gradients. "The design is fashionable—but fashion is a taste. Tastes also dominate your foes, Arbiter. They want to taste your blood, and will not consider fashion."

"On the contrary. If I died from a ranged attack, what does that say about my enemies?" the Arbiter asked. "My adversaries are all self-proclaimed Sangheili keeping to honor. 'The false Arbiter,' they call me. A name that was gained by my refusal to die on the battlefield."

"You are too confident," Freyn said without shame to who he was speaking to. He barely cared about hierarchy.

"Not quite." The Arbiter slid his hand along the purple rim of the railings as we descended the stairway. "Surveillance—both Human and our's—seperates heat signatures from the foliage of the slopes." He pointed his hand to the retractions and incisions in Kolaar's red flesh before stabbing his finger to the surrounding elevated points, be them towers or natural formations. "All marksman territory has been marked and is watched over indefinitely. If that is not enough, know that my shielding is reinforced at the disbursal of mobility; the shielding can take four sequent rounds from a particle beam rifle."

"Now you're too cautious," Anve snorted.

"Your allegations have reached their—and my—extent," Qrs said firmly. "Enough."

"Apologies," Anve said, not as near as remorseful as he pretended to be. Qrs knew it and worried about Anve's future. Qrs needed not to display any emotions to depict his concern. Anve was growing out of discipline, and it was my fault.

"You put too much blame on yourself for Vale's death," Skae 'Kuzomee said, making his presence known to me; I let the absent zephyr of his position escape me. It was for the best; the sideline entities did not limit my focus.

"There is a reason for that," I replied. Often me and 'Kuzomee would commune with my mind. I marveled how it was so coherent; how did what I say to him filter from my thoughts? It was as if the way we communed was a different realm of the mind.

"Vale felt guilt over my death," 'Kuzomee said. "He let it chip away at him. On the outside—and the inside, be it a little percentage—he was losing himself to his conscience that asked for him to do better."

_He sounds like he preferred that Vale died; what would come of Vale had he lived?_ Following my questions, I asked, "How do you think he would have turned out had he lived?" My voice was as brittle as crust from the bark of a tree. I didn't want to hear an answer for fear of losing 'Kuzomee. I hated to acknowledge it, but his presence was becoming less of a botheration. I felt like I could confide in him—and I did. He listened as I spoke.

"He would be the same, I think. . . ." 'Kuzomee made a noise like he pricked his finger as his voice trailed on a detour, returning to the established path with the knowledge of what the detour held. "One close to you is with the same attention span that you possess with guilt. . . . . I would never have guessed this!"

I was about to reply when something else garnered my attention as the Arbiter led us back into the tower, into an exposed domed chamber identical to the one several floors above. In this hall existed more doors leading to more sections. There was also a heavily embellished Sangheili. He adorned a sharp, mauve set of armor with jutting metal outgrowths that hooked from his pauldrons, thigh-guards, and helmet. The latter of the three, the helmet, covered his entire face, leaving scantily any room for his mandibles to move.

Protruding from the rearward flaps of the eye-socket on either side of helmet were two purple metal spines reaching to connect with a center spine coming up from his back; it connected his head to his back, keeping it aligned but severely hampering his movability. My sentiment changed when the metal spines slid on a railing system to allow him to tilt his head; he could move his head without breaking the connection.

Smaller spikes continued down his back, beginning at the large spine on the back of his shoulder blades and ending by his posterior. He looked like he had a deformation—a gibbosity. But the armor was made gorgeous by the effulgent red luminescence coming from inscriptions and emblazoned carvings. All beneath the armor was a thick fur undersuit that was primitive—Sangheili rarely wore the skin of their prey in such a manner.

Taking my eyes off the Sangheili, I rotated my head to meet 'Kuzomee's stare. It was back to what he said. His face told that he was astonished, thrilled; he was as a youngster being handed his first energy sword to inspect.

"What?" I kept my voice deliberately in a zone of puzzlement but allowed my tone to appeal to 'Kuzomee for atonement to his purpose-filled obfuscation.

"You should not be looking at me," 'Kuzomee said as he crossed his arms and moved up beside me, looking on to the recently appeared Sangheili. "The others observe you; they worry when they see you look intensely at nothing."

_Now is when I hear this_? I grunted, irritated. Nonetheless, I allowed my head the freedom to fall in with everyone's gaze. The Arbiter had left us in the middle of the chamber and was out of hearing radius, conversing with the new Sangheili. Words were wind; motion was force. Wind could harm. But on a scale—a very figurative scale—wind was ousted by force. Force was a passive-aggressive conception. For the Arbiter, he resorted to the passive side; gestures were used to put a formal emphasis on his words. Much could be interpreted from the way he moved and swirled his hands as his near unseeable mandibles simultaneously danced with his fingers.

'Kuzomee cleared his throat to make me vigilant of his imminent words; he did not demand my undivided attention._ It will work_, I hoped. Organic beings, when they spoke, needed to commune with the other's soul; eyes led to the soul. It was hard to converse without a gate to the soul under judgment. "There was once a veteran Forerunner Warrior. He belonged to a group known widely as 'Prometheans', the elite warriors of the Forerunner Empire."

"Why does this matter?"

'Kuzomee neglected to reply to me and didn't let up his persistence in telling me this tale. "This Forerunner was on the verge of suicide; he had battled the Flood since the Forerunner-Flood war began. His is a sad story. After indirectly causing the death of his closest friend, he went rogue to fight the Flood on his_ own_ terms; he was broken, defeated." 'Kuzomee mumbled adversely in reply to what he had just said—self-negation. "He never died."

It was hard to resist and not yield to the urge rigorously questing for me to face 'Kuzomee. I was interested; I was_ afraid_ of where this topic was bearing. 'Kuzomee spoke with the handling of slowly revealing the plot of a story. The plangency he put in with each word told me something: This story was new even in 'Kuzomee's eyes.

"This Forerunner met a being of immense power. It was a_ Nexus_. It was_ the_ Nexus." 'Kuzomee didn't play the pronoun game to disport himself. Something other was calling for 'Kuzomee to heed a precise and crisp protocol of what to spill to me in the form of words. He was going to leave me near no information not because he would refuse to say more, but because the Arbiter and his "friend" were crossing the chamber, returning to us. "Seed-of-the-Fleighted-Fire's deal with the being should be_ obvious_, no?"

"_What?"_ I spluttered in the real domain. Everyone looked at me, stricken with bafflement. "Apologies. Strange thought—stranger now in retrospective."

The Arbiter nodded. It would be nescient to think he believed me. None believed me. But to not raise it to disputation meant that the Arbiter found this Sangheili cultist more important. He was. The Arbiter gave a prefatorial gesture to the Sangheili. "I introduce you all to Orta 'Rakzom, leader of the Pariahs of Ethnicity. Not much differs from the title."

"But what do we not know?" Anve asked.

The Arbiter was not impressed that he was not given the opportunity to answer Anve's question_ before_ he asked it. Eager to obviate conflict, he said, "He has a following I feel well-situated in coordinating with, politically and strategically. One of the few, in fact."

"We have variety in specific breeds and artistically appointed innovations of the ingenuity of the macrocosm," 'Rakzom said. Each word was articulately spun from the tops' of his mandibles and reverberated from the surfaces' of his teeth. But he spoke with forbearance that suited well with the lingual choices he made. It was like he opened a book on the Sangheilian lexicon and took the first words he found and let them sprout from the roots of his mind._ And I thought Qrs was defective. _

'Rakzom began again counts after his first words—the next proved to be just as perplexing. "Equality constricts the itinerary I suffer to nurture with longevity."

"These are the wrong specimens for your trial," the Arbiter told 'Rakzom. "I will have to ask you to stop. Time is not my ally—nor is it anyone's'. Time is its own. Per that logic, I must make haste to the dungeon—" the Arbiter glanced at us, "—less the Human oversteps the margin."

The Arbiter expected protest—he was not disappointed. Anve was the first to object. "You allowed access to this body to the_ Humans_!"

Freyn added his own voice. He was less confining with what he preached. "How are you so sure_ they_ didn't send the assassin!"

_Fool_. Qrs didn't speak up; Krnat was steadfast in his silence, and Kri felt it out of place to let his voice run free. I allowed the Arbiter to speak. "Perhaps I put too much trust into the Humans." The Arbiter clenched his fist and brought it up in front of him, staring at it. "Or perhaps_ you_ are wrong. Humanity will not have me dead for if I were to die, nothing would prevent another war."

_He doesn't consider undercuts._ "So this Human is rogue?" I inquired. I had to fortify the suggestion that this was not the work of ONI's. Maybe that was the correct supposal—the Constrictor went rogue, so why not others?

"The Humans confirmed it." The Arbiter let it slide that he was now about to speak of the Constrictor by glimpsing at the Human. Informed that the Constrictor could understand us through a translation device in his ear, the Arbiter continued to communicate in Sangheilian. "However, they did not tell me that this rogue Human was adjoined with a deeper, complex labyrinth of mastership of biology."

The Arbiter didn't wait for a response and turned around. He led us on into the chamber; the guards prodded us on with courteous barks and quiet orders. 'Rakzom accompanied us through an elliptic door that hissed apart into two when we approached it—very Covenant-like.

"Why do the Humans inspect the corpse?" Freyn asked. He was not following the Monarch's bids for secrecy close enough to assure me that this plan would work._ He should just be quiet!_

"Because they have the right," the Arbiter said as we all entered the corridor leading from the chamber. "Because it is expected of me when a shared respect for the deceased is among the many arrangements of the treaty and eroding cease-fire."

"Your terminology is flawed," Anve said. "Why do you speak so highly of the Humans if the cease-fire is_ 'eroding'_?"

"Because, in many ways, it_ is_ eroding. The cease-fire is a dying ambition when Sangheili are still as much a threat to Humanity as they are to themselves," the Arbiter said. "A cease-fire hardly exists when blood still stains Sangheilian blades or Kig-Yar snouts." The Arbiter looked over his shoulder at Anve as we reached the end of the corridor. "I admire your investment in seeking flaws in me—it means you are alert, and I_ need_ you to be alert. You are right: Another term would have been more fitter."

The doors before us parted to a gravitation lift in the middle of a small room. The Arbiter and 'Rakzom crossed the room and stepped onto the lift's dais first, and the floor of the lift gave way and they were sent drifting down, out of sight. The guards herded us all on to the lift; the hatch gave way when there was no movement for five counts to allow as many as possible on without enacting on its transit conducts too early.

The room softly illuminated by purple lights from maintenance consoles and wall-mounted lamps soon disappeared in a whizzing upward swoop, replaced by a glistening blue tube that enclosed us as we steadily descended. I always hated gravity lifts. My gut hated them too. Much went out of its way to deny the right of employment by organics. Certain reaches just couldn't be achieved by organics.

There was no room for a guard to hold a spear up to the Constrictor, so they instead clapped a pair of hardlight cuffs onto him as they shifted us onto the lift's hatch. They should have exercised a more secure locking performance at the commencement of a security detail being assigned to him._ Maybe the Arbiter wanted to send a message_, I thought._ But then his conveyance is as flawed as his view on Humanity_.

We reached the bottom of the lift and were speedily rushed off, met by the Arbiter and 'Rakzom, who waited in a reception room for us. Inside was a desk facing towards the passageway leading to the gravity lift room—where we just came from—and integrated into the desk was a console. A senior Sangheili was slouched over the console, not acknowledging anyone's presence—not even the three Humans sitting patiently on a bench._ Associates of the one inspecting the body_, I estimated.

The three Humans gave us all a look over—particularly the Constrictor. But there was a familiarity in their eyes, and upon lifting my arm and sweeping my head under my armpit, I saw the Constrictor's eyes widen in a shock I had never seen before in_ any_ Human.

I didn't ask what was wrong and followed with everyone else as we were led on by the Arbiter through a large double set of doors into another corridor that was less lit by purple-flamed torches as the hallway neared its extremity.

'Rakzom found it suitable to retreat up next to me. 'Kuzomee retreated behind me—he wasn't seen, and it was becoming more liable that the theory of him being corporeal was ever thriving. Yet, if he was a semblance—a figure of my mind—why would he be physical? He was only a_ projection_ of my_ augmented_ mentality.

"Forgive me if I confused you earlier," 'Rakzom said. "Upon first meeting someone, I display a rapid use of antonyms and synonyms to put one off. It's a test of patience; if one cannot tolerate it, they are unworthy of speaking to me." By the sound of his voice, I put it that he was younger than 'Kuzomee._ Yet, a cult leader?_

"A smart improvisation," I said, my eyes darting to explore every crevice of the ancient bricks' of the dungeon. Ther 'Vadam, a fabled idol of the 'Vadam Lineage, escaped the dungeons when he was usurped by a rival Clan and thrown into the darkness of the jails. Legend spoke of him depriving himself of food until he was skinny enough to squeeze through the bars of his cell's window and scale the slopes of Kolaar. At a later date, he returned with allies and slaughtered his usurpers. He also had all Sangheili that were imprisoned in the jails executed for being too cowardly to end their lives. I always hoped that all his subjects that were confined with him were already dead and that those he had put to death were thieves, murderers, and other ignominious bastards. That, or we were stupid even before the San'Shyuum annexed us.

"I see your eye's interest," 'Rakzom said, voice young but experienced—and wise. He was a born leader. "You think of Ther 'Vadam, do you not?"

"A bold illation."

"Not at all. I thought the same on my first trip down here. As did others I spoke with." The armor of 'Rakzom's neck screeched as the rails retracted to allow him to lift his head. I hoped there was a ground behind the style other than a pure cosmetic appreciation. "Some of my following hail from the darkest pits of rot and unnatural desperation. They are scarred by the penalization schemes that Sangheili hold to tradition."

"The Arbiter allowed you to take the condemned?"

"A rehabilitation effort. I kill those with no sight of restoring their honor." 'Rakzom looked over his shoulder to where the Constrictor was being led forward by two guards. "Your friend's face does nothing for the Arbiter's trust issues."

"I know," I said as we neared the end of the corridor. "He entered that state when sighting those Humans back there. Members of ONI?"

"Yes. And old friends of his, I gather." 'Rakzom excused himself with a gesture and hurried back up to join the Arbiter as the doors hissed open. A larger chamber than the preceding, elegant ones awaited us.

A shallow air thickened each inhale I took with detritus and torment. To all directions were cells and newly imprisoned Sangheili, Jiralhanae, and Kig-Yar. I amassed the conclusion that Orta 'Rakzom was here to collect the prisoners.

We continued until we reached an overlooking stone balcony of the dungeon's central chamber, lit by a single orb of light hanging from the vaulted roof. We were led down a staircase to the cavity before the Arbiter and 'Rakzom led us to a conterminous room; only an arched doorway with dividing walls separated the chamber and room. Inside was a stone slab rested below the two divided parts of a Human body that was on a white sheet that kept the blood and organs from tainting the slab.

A male Human stood over the body. At our presence, he turned around. He spotted the Constrictor and smiled instantly. The Human pulled his blood-stained gloves off and flicked them to a mechanized surgical table of Human design. He ran a hand through his white hair and the narrowing of his sharp blue eyes only added to his sharp features.

He chortled in incredulity as his eyes fully latched onto that of the Constrictor's. "Well-well. Look at what the_ big, bad_ universe brought in."

"Smith," the Constrictor hissed.

The Human grinned. "Shouldn't it be 'dad'?"

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

A thrilling time has come; pack your bags, prepare for the hype train, and be ready to hunt the truth. Two options exist, and it's probable that "traitor" and "hero" doesn't just hang over the UNSC and ONI's head.

Thank you JOKERx2xLEET for following. And thanks go to anyone who has pointed out typos or grammars in the past; I thought it necessary to reinforce my gratitude before it becomes more stale than stale bread, _yuck!_

This chapter was proofread by Tmachgaming. He says he couldn't find any mistakes or errors, but he is just one person, and no matter what I read, I sometimes get too engrossed to notice errors, so there's that problem as well. No pressure on him if he missed anything; no matter how many people proofread a story, mistakes will be missed, and it's up to other people to fill in the gaps.

Please review. It's a request, but one I'm not too bothered with. I mostly just like to see reviews from people so I know they're still sticking around. And if something bothers you, bring it to my attention, please.

Post-release update, I should probably not accidentally break the consistency of thanking my reviewers. Gosh, I thought I missed something when originally writing this up. Anyway, thanks go out to **Trusne**, **Tmachgaming**, **The Constituionalist**, **Lyndakey1**, **Starart132**, and **Fleightfire **for reviewing.

Sunday (Monday, for me) can't come soon enough!


	58. The Manifestation of Foreshadow

**(-(-(—****[]Courtney Jsarez[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>I always thought that when people used the term "kick in the gut", they were amplifying the severity of what they witnessed, felt, and the prolonged aftermath in which they had to cope with a seemingly changing environment.<p>

That was how the Human mind functioned: You build this delusion people hyperbolize sensations so you could deceive yourself into a false security that if being "kicked in the gut" was something you could put on your credibility card, it would not be something you felt nauseous upon looking back at.

No one wanted to undergo the pain others did. Fear persuaded them that it was only as bad as they made it in their mind. I knew the sentiment. I told myself_ over_ and_ over_ again that it could not get more pessimal than being raped and growing up without the proper support because I was too emotionally scared to open up. I thought it scoped the end when I lost Red and felt the pain he felt; his hand imploded during augmentations. Only the Gravemind surmounted Red's augmentations.

No one ever referenced guilt. Having different forms of guilt from various sources killed all the other pain because no matter what you did_,_ it never left. There were omissions, just not for me. I got what was deserved for what I did. But I could only excuse the pain for so long before it became tedious.

I got my first taste of guilt not long after attacking Thel 'Lodam psychologically. I allowed 'Sarasee's fleet to be obliterated when I could have let it escape Halo with most of its integrality. But then it would be a player of the Covenant civil war; I could put a few bets on who the fleet would have decided to align itself with. It was a fifty-fifty chance._ So, I made the right choice_, I kept telling myself, but falling for the nonsense in those words would be like trying to justify the SPARTAN-II Program.

I was a pathetic person. I scarred 'Lodam and I feared that he would come for me. It was not that I did not deserve to suffer a reprisal of my actions, but I feared death. Humans feared that which they do not know. Or they go looking for something they do not_ fully_ understand, and discover what was not for them.

Next came Bethany Jayde. I matched it up to a cone. It was thin at the start, but it got more dismal as it went out. The girl died because I did not want to die. Nobody wants to die. Covenant excluded, no_ Human_ craved death when told to_ really_ mull over the question. But when I was already sentenced to death and I killed someone for no reason, it defies all the following justifications. She would have died anyway, but that was like telling a kid not to cry over a dead pet, that the pet would have died anyway. Probably a bad comparison, but it was better than Lynda's.

Next came something I could not be held accounted for; this fell to Red to and his pride. Out of a titillating curiosity, I investigated into something that should have been left in its grave; the consequences of your selfish actions.

Tenetta Dorhan was found in her bathroom, wrists slit. Her daughter, Madison Dorhan, was found drowned in the bathtub at the age of only five. Official police statements claimed that Tenetta was already mentally unstable. Her instability was solidified when her husband, Lieutenant Rhine Dorhan, was listed as Missing in Action, probably dead.

I kept a repetition sequence in my head that whether Red killed Dorhan or not, his family would have still fallen apart due to the slipspace pandemic that saw the UNSC_ Kryptonite._

Then there was the other four hundred and twenty-four dead—twenty-six, if Lilly Gantant and Joseph Gamble were not treated by the correct prisoner of war laws by the Monarch and Diverted. David Larson was with them. I hoped for the best. It was humorous how people clung onto the smallest chunk of hope. Their firm determination to see those they cared about again was applaudable, but they were never rewarded with actually being reunited. Karma had her cruel game. She had to maintain her coherency. A simple fact, as mentioned, made me fear for the lives of Lilly and Joseph.

I had a list of who I was. Filling up the crown of the list was terms of revilement and flaws. I was not perfect, but I was not the type of non-perfect others could like. One could intervene and deny that; I was liked, loved, looked up to as a sovereign idol for a valiant soldier. But deep down, I was a loathsome person. I despised myself, as did many, as_ would_ many.

But I was a hero in the eyes of many. The room I sat in was run by a media company that did not care whether or not I was a hero. But this interviewer sitting in the chair opposite mine, his black suit having argent trims from the studio's controlled lighting, was deluded. In his chocolate-brown eyes, I was a hero. He wore an avid expression. His jaw pulled his mouth wide like a gaping cut. He could not think of a situation he would rather be in.

I handed in my resignation. The Navy agreed to honorably discharge me if I had a premature interview with one of the major networks before the Tribute. Admiral Serin Osman would not have let the Navy keep me anyway; accepting the offer from the outlet was supererogatory. But the Navy's game of presumption stroked me as too risky on their part. They had their zone of what they could touch and with what pressure they could apply. But there was also a verge.

_The Navy crossed the verge_, I concluded.

The interviewer crossed his legs and shuffled in his seat, smiling as the camera drones circled me. He clasped his datapad. The appliance had texts and lines of details on what the UNSC could release to the public and a portfolio of my declassified achievements. He did not need to read the compiled report to have a respectful love for me.

"So, tell me about EDEN."

It was chronologically scripted. First it was some info, remotely about Harvest and Arcadia. Next it was about my early military career—what was unclassified and disclosed to national opinion. Then it revolved around a fabricated story that me and the rest of the crew of the_ Kryptonite_ had to follow; ONI debarred the mention of anything about Installation-06 coming up. He also talked about the situation with the Pariahs of Ethnicity and broached the subject of Thel 'Lodam. Some details orbited the population's attention without it being run by me, number by number. I would have to consult Black-Box and get his input on what precisely was public cognition.

"There's a lot to tell unless you put it into a certain perceptive," I said, keeping a placid face when I wanted out of this situation. Black-Box had observation of me. Penalizing the Navy was flushed from my conscious.

"Yeah. But let's keep it out of perspective," the interviewer said. His face constricted to widen his smile as far as it could extend. "What_ is_ it, exactly? Statements have declared that it's a not-for-profit organization that deals in Human Resourcing and aid. Is that true?"

_The outside is center-staged_, I repeated in my head, creating my mantra, my guideline_._ "Yes. We don't work for profit; EDEN will rely on public donations and we will raise funds through charities." I swept my fringe out of my eyes to get a clearer image of the small room I was in. The room was nothing fancier than a simple studio decorated up to appear as a living room. "We also plan on petitioning for corporate investments. This will ameliorate public support for these companies, and help shareholders."

I omitted details about the private military company scheme I had. I did not want inquiries raised when I had yet to develop statements. I put in place plans that I was not prepared to discuss. It was an intimation to the others of the actual, baseline objectives of EDEN.

"This is fairly noble of you—and it makes one think of what you went through during the incident," the interviewer said, pacifying his enthusiasm and writing down notes on his datapad like a kid scribbling on paper. "What made you so determined to go this route?"

_ONI's indirect murder of my crew_, I wanted to say. I filtered out my thoughts from what I_ had_ to say. Some people did not have that common sense. They never got far. "I returned to find out that my father died and that his company was lawfully left to his heir—my mother. But he never abstracted me in the possibility that I returned." I fiddled my earpiece back into my ear when it faced falling out. "I didn't want to squander the wealth I have at my disposal. I want to do something good with it at my own expense. I don't need much more than the basics of life. And . . . there are_ very few_ laws in war, and I saw and_ did_ a lot of things I regret and feel not overly satisfied with."

"Careful," Black-Box warned me, voice reverberating in my ear. His presence was something I would be better without, but ONI was watching me no matter where I was. I could only silently indicate what I was arranging to Red and the others.

The interviewer did not pursue me on my reference. He had an earpiece of his own and was being fed information to fit in perfectly with mine, molding this interview into the perfect one to show some contribution to the overall quality; a strategy of delusion.

"Ugeous released a statement during a press conference," the interviewer said. "They're refusing to go far into a debate they started and are refusing to agree to pass the company over to you. Now, Ugeous is headed by a substitute for your mother, who is intellectually disabled. The substitute was_ also_ your father's closest friend. What do you have to say about this?"

"Well, my father had a bad taste in friends. But CEO, Dwayne Stock, has agreed to meet up with me. I'm actually going to meet him after this." I tapped my fingers against the rests of my chair. "I plan on a lot of things being discussed between us. Loyalty, reliance. Friendship is important, so I'll bring that up, hit him domestically with it. He has, by all fairness,_ betrayed_ my father. Whatever happens, I_ don't_ plan on departing without a guarantee that Ugeous will go into my hands. I appreciate Dwayne's efforts to look after my mother, but_ if_ he cares for what remains of my family, he'll let me take control of the company. I may have no experience, but I am, by right, obligated to file a lawsuit if he_ does not_ abide by my father's_ clear_ penultimate—if not_ final_—wishes."

"Yeah—it must be difficult. You've been through a lot in your life." The interviewer flashed me a sad, apologetic smile. "How does one endure the pain that has been imposed on you all these years?"

"It was natural for me. It began with my brother's death when I was young." Prevarications began to flow from my mouth after I mentioned Red. "It hurt then. It hurts now. It got worse when I started to be mistreated by my teacher. Then I was raped at sixteen. Then I was mistreated by my teacher for_ having_ been raped. She used derogatory terms towards me when she was everything_ she_ called_ me_."

"I hear your father took pity on her family when May Christina died and left them nothing," the interviewer said, taking notes and taking what his superiors told him with a silent twitch of his eyes or squeeze of his facial muscles. "He supported them financially. They then took Ugeous to the civilian tribunal after the Covenant were repelled from Earth during a battle that saw the death of your father. They allege that Ugeous put them out in the cold when they needed to refocus their funding. Do you plan on supporting May's family?"

"Definitely," I nodded, adding several more nods to intensify my conviction. I hurt a lot of people in different ways. I owed people, and I could provide for people that my family and friends owed. "Though they're related to someone I hate with all my guts, they have undergone as much suffering as I did, and continue to suffer."

"Well, it's best not to hold you up from doing_ just_ that." The interviewer brought his datapad to bear. He relocated his glasses, sloping his eyes to read what he sought in a suitable order. "The audience on social media have sent in their questions, and we're going to answer as many as we can. It that okay?"

"Sure." A fact with this news network was that it was so profitable that essential airings and reports had advertisements removed to attract a broader audience. One or two enterprises quit on paying them to air advertisements during times of inconvenience, and not airing them during times of financial convenience. It got more public support and enhanced ratings; it completed the overall goal. And the explosion on social media for these question segments shifted promotions to other sources of media.

It was a variety of entertainment. The strategy's success was decided by who looked upon it. Most endorsed it. A minority dissented with it. I was with the minority. Some would ask questions that I could not answer. But an Insurrectionist-sympathizer might have brightened the mood up. Currently, I had kept my military lingo off the live broadcast, but spicing it up could send a message that I was not a hero.

The attributes of being a hero did not stick to my qualifications. "Just throw any question at me. Don't filter them out. If people have an opinion to share, a hard, explicit question to ask, send it to me, and I'll reply. Nothing beats the stress that comes with battling the Covenant; public opinion will be a breeze."

The interviewer nodded. He cleared his throat before conveying the first question. "Francine, from Amsterdam, asks about your relationship with Sierra-098."

_What a stupid question_, I thought before washing the thought clean from my head. "Strictly professional. I've worked with him closely during several confidential operations."

"Commend him," Black-Box told me.

"And I can affirm that SPARTANs get things done on levels that no military leader has reached before," I said, twirling my tongue around to wash away the repugnance of my words. Red provided essentially zero tactical advice during operations. "I've never seen a finer example of a leader."

"That's groovy to know. Perhaps Sierra-098 is the herald of the return of all of Humanity's heroes."

I muted a scoff. This young journalist had a higher grade of ignorance than what I initially thought. I judged him too lightly. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I took to a choreograph of where to put what thought, and I danced away. But I slipped, staggered, and misplaced my judgment.

"Okay, next question is from Susan, Brisbane," the interviewer said. "She's asking where the name 'EDEN' derives from."

"Well, that's quite simple." I omitted the criticism I wanted to express over the simplistic answer to the question. "First I should mention that I'm not a religious person. But that doesn't matter as I got the suggestion from a friend who happens to be religious. From what he told me to convince me to take the name, the Garden of Eden was a paradise. A Utopia. It was meant to signify peace. The plans behind EDEN are to secure a small portion of the Universe as a haven for anyone. It's been over six hundred years since Humanity entered a golden age of order and laws. Still, there's conflict, and very few try to act with the best interest of our race in mind."

What I said was not authentic. The name_ was_ a suggestion to me. But I did not receive any suggestions from anyone virtuous. Toless Morgan and Rick Cylus, the only two survivors of a convict-comprised Orbital Drop Shock Trooper team designated Fireteam Night, came to me and brought the whole idea of EDEN to my attention. "EDEN" was considered due to the connection with Adam and Eve. Adam from the tale related in name to Adam Franti, the deceased leader of Fireteam Night. It was to honor him. I did not mention my ONI-opposing plans when EDEN was still in discussion with Morgan and Cylus.

The interviewer smiled attentively at my sentimental reasoning. "Here's the next question." He scrolled his finger down the screen of his datapad. "It's from George, from here in Sydney. He wants to know if you racked up a score on how many Covenant you killed."

_He's trying to break my brain_, I assessed. I earnestly considered responding honestly. Ultimately, I kept the facade. "I didn't keep count," I said. "Well, I initially did. But after bombarding a few encampments from orbit, I decided to stop caring. The best number I can estimate is somewhere in the thousands."

"A bit short on what I would've expected, but some good numbers." The interviewer's eyelids hooded his orbs of perception; the folds were hooded by his furrowed brows. "Martha, from New York, asks about your relationship with Captain Dean White."

My face morphed into a lighter version of the interviewer's confused frown. I expected this not so publically directed. Dean cited that his family were pro-Marine fanatics, and detested the Navy as people who never got anything done. They apparently never heard of Preston Cole. And the SPARTANs were Navy until they became they split off to form their own branch. Dean also said he discussed me with them. They seemed content with the idea that I exaggerated how affected I was from Eric; they thought I was extorting support from Dean. They wanted him to marry a renown female Colonel_ after_ they scrubbed away the blemish of his cannibalization from his credentials.

First they wanted my removal from the picture.

"_Martha White_?" I gestured, asking the interviewer to check his datapad. By his capability to conjure up questions so easily, the site the audience were utilizing was under the domain of Studio Sunshine. By chance, submission of actual details was a necessity.

The interviewer—whose name was Noah, but I did not use his name—used his index finger to scroll down the screen of his datapad. He poked it against the screen when he found what he was seeking, and flicked his forefinger away from his thumb to enlarge the browser. "A Martha White? Yes. Relative of Captain White?"

"Yes. Albeit, I don't like to associate Dean with his family. It's the same rock-and-roll for him." I looked straight into the camera; I was about to address Martha White_ through_ the drone's lens. "I'll be blunt, Martha. I'll be direct to go straight to the point. If I hurt your son doing so, I apologize—hurting Dean is the opposite of my intentions. But you just don't understand our relationship. We got drunk and slept together. Good thing is that we both are finding it hard to recall anything, and for the sake of our pride, it's just an outback occurrence. But my mind adjusted to a . . . 'partner comfort', and not only do I feel safe around your son, I feel comfortable—which is pretty damn amazing taken into circumstance the fact that a week ago, any male not closely related to me would never be able to_ touch_ me, or be_ alone_ with me.

"Your son is offering his support because we're both embroiled in a chance predicament. We're friends that engage in semi-intimate acts of affection. This isn't a case of '_romance_', it's a case of exploiting an advantage. He'll help me get up back on my feet—if I ever do—but by then, I expect that he would've wedded whoever the hell_ he_ wants. Arranged marriages are things of the past. Your son's been fighting for the future. I hope to meet you at the Tribute to speak to you in person about this. We'll come to find ourselves on common grounds. Or we won't."

"Feisty," the interviewer remarked, closing the browser and bringing back up the question bank. "I hope this doesn't escalate. We've got a few more questions—"

I got out of my seat. The interviewer got up as well and waved for the drones to blink of their cameras. I felt finished, tired; I considerably down hard on myself. Facing another Christina took it out of me, and I could not continue to answer pitiful questions when I was in a pitiful state of mind.

"What's wrong?" The interviewer asked, holding his datapad close to his chest.

"I'm done here. There's nothing keeping me here, so I'm going to head back home and sleep off the large headache I just got." I left for the door to the control booth that doubled as the studio exit, shaking my head. I was disappointed in myself. Everything else held a potential interest of being hated by me, but I hated myself._ Captain Courtney Jsarez; Service Number 99342-72810-CJ. I am my own monument to all my damn sins._

The interviewer rushed in front of me. I clenched my hand into a fist, ready to strike him down if he got excessively overconfident in himself. An over-reliance on your ego should have been corrected when symptoms showed

"Listen,_ Noah_, I'm not the_ hero_ you're fantasizing me as," I confessed, fervent in my dedication to quelling any thought I disagreed with passionately.

"Careful, Captain. Careful," Black-Box warned me.

_If Osman got it her way, I would not be my own person_. I prepared myself for the dirty work of the day. "I've killed people for my own selfish needs," I continued; each word broke away at him like he was a stone statue of ignorance, and I was the knife, chipping away to mold something better. "And I continue only to do things for myself and those I care for or am close to. I will_ never_ shed another drop of blood for Humanity's sake. If I shift my previous blood spilling out of the spotlight of the time, I can innocuously say that there was never a time in my life where I did anything for Humanity's sake over my own."

"You sound like my boss. Not as heroic, though." Noah moved out out-of-the-way, swinging his hand to the door and bowing. "Face it, Captain Jsarez, you're a hero for different reasons. You put yourself before others. Some of the worst things in Human history were done with the goals of improving a group of people, a nation . . . a planet." He flashed me a smile. At first I thought I spotted some sexual tension—there was enough of that—but it was respect. "It was good talking to you."

I did not blink. He was not as ignorant as I thought_._ My judgment was dancing again. It would be one hell of a chance that it tripped up again. "Likewise," I nodded and passed through the exit, much to the bickering protests of the technical crew. As I cleared the doorway into the booth, I said to Noah, "Quit this shitbox and join Channel Four. You've got the attitude they're looking for, and they have the canny goals."

I left with Dean White, who was allowed to wait in the control booth. We both ignored the calls from producers for me to come back and discuss what happened. No one touched me, and out of respect, some stepped away and even blocked the pursuing, harassing crew.

"You handled that well, Captain," Black-Box noted ardently. "Osman watched it all. She's impressed."

"No offense to her, but her impressions don't really fall flat on the Plateau of consideration," I said, cocking my head when I thought I spotted the last thing I ever wanted to see again. Finding nothing, I shrugged it off.

"Courtney?' Dean asked, crooking his mouth and facing me as he treaded by my side.

"There was a spike in your pulse. Captain, are you okay?" Black-Box asked, worried that I was encased in some sort of paradox, but serene at the prospect of me unhinging. I had exhibited enough clues that I was already insane

"Callbacks to something that's gone." I rubbed my forehead as I let my feet walk me down a flight of stairs, waving my hand for reporters climbing the staircase to move. I was feeling heated, winded. . . . I was_ scared_? My head became my therapist._ Who am I? Why the fuck did I just forget_ _my name? Jsarez, Courtney. Captain. Service Number 99342-72810-CJ. . . ._ Some_thing_ was with me._ It_ never left.

At the end of the stairway, a demonic, bloody figure was climbing the stairs, invisible to the eyes of anyone that was not me or Red.

White and other employers of Sunshine took notice to my horror. They asked if I was okay. Only their mouths moved. No words came forth to give me some feel of importance. Shortly, they vanished, and Black-Box's alarmed voice became a distant echo and vibration that sounded in my head, sparking a combustion of alarms to disperse throughout my brain.

The creature finished its climb and stopped in front of me. It delineated what would have happened if someone mashed me and Red together. Its mouth was gaping, teeth pointing out from between its crimped lips. Its eyes were sharp, tapered like the eyes of a raptorial bird, and dark. Everywhere else was a replication of me and Red. The creature was shaved, having, collectively, all Red and my cicatrices, and had my breasts, my vagina. Protruding from my vagina was Red's manhood.

Was the Gravemind still with Red?_ Or has this thing always been a part of us?_

"I've been with you forever," the creature said in a crackling, gagging voice, choking on the fluid that streamed from its mouth. "I've been with your father. And his mother and her mother and her father—back and back it goes. Where does it stop? Nobody knows. I do. It stops at the end and beginning of everything."

"What_ are_ you? Stop bullshitting me!" I yelled, not caring if the words leaving my mouth entered the ears of the people that were probably encompassing me.

"_I_ am the combination of a_ thousand_ lifetimes of planning. I am the past." The creature used a lizard-like tongue to lick away the blood specking its lips. "I am the_ future_. I am a God. I am a Demon. I serve a God. I kill Demons. I am a cloud of the truth but am a tempest filled with lies and shattered remains of ancient lies. Reclaimer, your entire existence hinges on a test. You passed the test, and now advancement_ is_ possible." The creature looked around; it saw what I did not. I saw what others did not. The creature's sight finally fell back to my face. "Do not subside from the record you have set, Reclaimer. The Garden of Eden starts out as a prosperous realm, occupied by two. But those two betrayed God and suffered for it._ Do. Not. Betray. God._ If it is not obvious to who the Serpent is, look further. He will offer you an apple—sweet, juicy. An apple is revenge. The Serpent will offer revenge._ Do. Not. Take. The. Apple._"

The creature faded out, becoming diaphanous; he was like an image, and a modifier was sliding down his opacity. As he attenuated, others faded in as quickly as they had faded out. Dean was before me. His features, beginning soft and indistinct, became crisp and trenchant. His voice, as distant as his figure, became clearer.

"Courtney?" His voice stayed soft, graceful, rousing me from the horror and pulling me into an embrace. The synthetic augmentations to repair his vocal cords after his throat was sliced open made his voice dynamic. Most times it was rough, edgy. But now it was soft, betraying his muscular build and sturdy face. "Are you okay?"

"Your brain wave activity is reverting to normal," Black-Box said, releasing a sign—very_ Human_. "Pulse stable, and you're no longer on the deceased charts. Welcome back, Captain."

"Red?" I asked, concern going to the highest bidder. I was breathing all right. Black-Box gave his own analysis. Now Red was my focus.

"Whatever happened was contained to you," Black-Box said. "Red began throwing up when you froze, but he never showed similar symptoms of schizophrenia."

"We'll talk about this later." Dean tugged at my arm gently, eying all the employees of Studio Sunshine that were gathering around me. Dean declined any offers for help and calmed down the most distressed people who were panicking, wondering if they should call emergency services. Dean calmed them all down before leading me down the rest of the stairs and through the door routing into the offices.

Neither of the three of us spoke as Dean steered me through the offices. Dean was so resolute it getting me away from the spotlight that he began to ignore inquiries about my welfare from workers. The word was distributed throughout the tower—Studio Sunshine's central office—and was about to become public knowledge. Civilian psychologists would conclude that I had schizophrenia, and, being the drones they were, the sentiment of the greatest voice would be the public's following. People were frightened of being by themselves. They needed someone to guide them, to give them boundaries of what they could do, to set their fate. Evolving from primates, man always looked for someone to follow before looking to themselves.

Dean led me into an elevator built into a dividing intersection wall. Down would take us to the tower's atrium and the streets of Sydney. Going up would take us to the Studio's airspace pads. Civilian-grade aerial drones and vehicles rested on the pads. Waiting for us on one pad was our registered military Falcon.

Media pursuit on the streets was becoming dangerous; one of the surviving Marines, who suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, got into a non-fatal traffic accident when trying to escape the media. Sydney's Unified Ground Command correspondents declared to the public that further harassment would see retaliation in the form prosecution. Additionally, they recommended travel by air for moving around the city and planet.

Black-Box and Dean did not speak while in the elevator. What voices were missing were replaced by jazz music playing in the lift. Some voices came from screens embedded in the walls; narrators advertised for different sponsors of Sunshine, blurting lies.

The elevator came to a stop, clanking and shuddering. The doors divided and Earth's sun shone in, breaking through the seam of the parted doors and providing a natural ambient light to the lift's interior. I squinted my eyes and followed Dean out onto the roof.

Our Falcon was resting on an elevated platform attached to the ground of the tower's roof by a broad flight of stairs. A raised walkway, held from the roof by frames a few meters in height, led away from the pad in two opposing directions, connecting platforms.

_That is not our pilot_, I thought upon seeing a casually garbed man standing by the bay of our Falcon. He held a datapad and worked thirstily on it on the spot; cracking down the on-screen buttons of his datapad gave him a sense of pride.

His hair was dyed a shade of blue to add strength to his eyes. His skin was dark; his descent was not open to interpretation.

"Who the hell is_ that_?" Dean loudly wondered, looking around at the aerial vehicles belonging to Studio Sunshine. "How did he get here? All the other rides belong to Sunshine."

The man heard Dean and glanced up from his datapad. He did not wait for us and climbed down the flight of stairs, packing his datapad into a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Are you here to see us?" I asked, watching the man incisively as he stopped in front of us, cracking his neck as fast as the whip the cracking resembled.

"I'm a friend of Major Tyler Hauver's," the man said curmudgeonly, not offering a hand to shake. "He contacted me. He needs my help in assisting you; you_ also_ need my help, Captain Jsarez." He observed my look of confusion. "Tyler_ did_ tell you about the situation he needs handling?"

Dean and I both nodded to substantiate that fact. "He gave me some information. But he mostly told me to hold my horses while he steps up the beef on a plan." I crossed my arms, unimpressed. "This was two days ago. When I asked where his friend was, I got an answer that made me believe that contact would be made a_ hell of a lot_ faster than it has been."

"Sorry, Captain. I'm not that easy to find." The man turned and extended his arm towards the Falcon, beckoning us on. "Come. I'll fill you in on the way to your meeting. Mister Stock traveled a long way to meet up with you. I wouldn't advise that you slip him up."

I followed the man to the Falcon. Dean kept to my side. I had an uncanny feeling that whoever this person was, he was not just helping Hauver as a friend. "What_ else_ did you want?" I asked.

"An interview or two. I've actually been hired by Section II to do a report on you. Censorship will be exercised to its extremes to make everything ready for the public, but your life story is what I'm aiming at."

"Section II can go eff themselves," I grunted, non-caring for my reputation; my character was better to be seen in a negative light.

"I expected to hear that," the man said as we all filed into the bay of the Falcon. Dean primed his earpiece, giving the pilot the signal for liftoff. "But I have a habit of keeping the story I want to tell in mind before proceeding. So I hope to sway you otherwise when I give you everything I can on what I plan on telling about you. I'll also reward you for the donation of your time."

"How?" I asked, following Dean and the man in equipping a headset; we needed to commune over the chops of the Falcon's propellers.

"No matter the lies and cover-ups I put into a story I tell, I always put extra effort into finding out all the secrets. I'm a man who likes to know the truth behind everything—"

"What can_ you_ tell me that_ ONI_ can't?" I asked, grinding my voice, frustrated.

"Mainly bits of info that even ONI doesn't know." The men kicked his legs up on the seat next to me, relaxing in the enclosed space of the bay. "I've contract for ONI a lot, but I also go about on my own whims. My whims led me to the Pariahs of Ethnicity."

"Sorry, mate, but those extremists aren't in my span of interest," I said._ They endangered Red_, I almost added, but kept it a thought.

The man's face did not break under the pressure of my refusal to coordinate with him. He regathered himself and called for another assault. He succeeded. " They're not extremists."

My interest was caught, but its hold over me was wavering. "Then_ what_ are they?"

"A built version of EDEN." The man ran a hand over the prickles of his receding blue hair. "An already existing Utopia."

I mused on the possibilities; I was being dragged into a chance opportunity._ If I stopped regarding EDEN as a means to avenge my crew—as was the figure's meaning—I should find a more passive means to solidify EDEN's standing_.

"Go on."

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Weeks pass and disappear into the past and the coming weeks become our focus. For me, I have been finding weeks to pass at a rapid rate. But this week cannot pass fast enough. It has been a good week to be a fan of the Halo lore, and to be a fan of Halo in general.

343i are on a streak with referencing and bringing back characters from past media. We have the _man _here, who I could not resist including. And we have Micheal Sullivan from Forward Unto Dawn making a slight cameo (you know what I mean if you following Canon Fodder). _This _is when 343i are at their prime. They are not good innovators, and they have a terrible case of not maintaining the consistency of the lore. But they know how to appease the lore fans, and they are good story writers. Kind of good story writers (I am looking at you, Brian Reed!).

Enough praising 343i when half of you probably hate them. I am not a huge fan of their marketing and design decisions, but their story telling is good, in my eyes. But as for _my _story telling, I can safely say that I am narrowing down my small faults. For one: I have finally deduced that Courtney Jsarez is one of the hardest—possibly the hardest—character to write. To make it easier, I made her chapters have stiff sentences and I try to keep the chapters as clear of her personal traits as I can.

Perhaps I am over-thinking it. I have over-thought things before. It is a bad tendency of mine.

Next chapter will be from Courtney's point-of-view before I go and narrate a chapter for another original character. I am going to start with the lesser known characters and work in to the others. This allows me to properly establish the characters and their traits.

I will also begin working on the next special in lieu of revising chapter nine. This will prevent the writing of the special to overlap the actual progression of the story. It _is _an addition, after-all. The next special will be similar to the last one in its narrative, and will be from the point-of-view of an overlooked member of Fireteam Night as he summarizes the creation of the Fireteam and the connection between them all.

I should really think of another name instead of using "special". Really amateur of me. But they are what they are; they are special chapters, nothing more, nothing less. What could I possibly describe them as instead?

Great. This Author's Note has been too long; I have a bunch of other people to credit.

My heartfelt thanks go out to **Joat the Goat**, **The Constitutionalist**, **Starart132**, **Trusne**, **Fleightfire**, and **Tervice777 **for reviewing the last update. Extra thanks go to Tervice for following. Seriously, the support you all give is essential for my low self-esteem. I would not be where I am without a constant reminder that I am doing a good job, and people like what I am doing. Plus, I had one hell of an epiphany the other night. I have a major idea for the plot to come together and for so much to be explained. This epiphany came while reading Primordium. Take a guess, I dare you, to what I am thinking of that has not already been foreshadowed.

A special thanks goes to **Atraxotax **for leaving a rather hilariously true and obscure-free review. I recommend you go read it if you can. It is mainly him complaining about Courtney and Red's character. He got a lot of points right; the twins are not meant to be likable.

I doubt you will see this, Atrax. Your straightforward approach in saying that you cannot read this story further without spilling your guts was made clear to me, and it is certain that you will never see this. Still, you helped me realize that my efforts to make the twins likable in some regards have been flawed. Albeit, you have not read to the parts I extend their Humanity. But it still remains that I have some dark plans for Courtney and Red. Dark plans remain. But there is a shaft; light is slowly coming forth.

Finally, thank you so much, **Tmachgaming**, for proofreading this. His points made me have another epiphany that should help my writing out. Who ever said feedback never works needs to hit themselves.


	59. Taking Stock of the Situation

**(-(-(—****[]Courtney Jsarez[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>The man clapped his hands, satisfied. He then leaned back in his seat, withdrawing his legs from the bench beside me.<p>

"If your plan was to have something that we don't know," Black-Box said to stop me before I began, "then I recommend you wait until you have the time to create a secure digital passage."

To reply, I tapped my earpiece, indicating to the man that I was addressing the Artificial Intelligence in my ear. "Why would you give me a tip?" I asked Black-Box, adding giddily, "You're getting sloppy."

Mocking a stuffy nose, smug accent, Black-Box said, "Well, this is all easy to explain. It's so easy that I'm surprised you haven't already worked it out. There are reasons, Captain. First: Osman likes a challenge. Secondly: I, or any other_ Smart_ AI, can hack any virtual connection—it's a patrimony. The third thing is that Mister Benjamin Giraud, here, only_ thinks_ he has secret dirt on the Pariahs of Ethnicity."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, tugging my belt to release pressure. I hated flying. I commonly contracted Vertigo and kinetosis. Before I did, I acted fast and tried another strategy. "Benjamin." Saying his name got his eyes to snare mine in a lock. A war between our stare had gone on for a few seconds before I said, "Why are you so sure that ONI knows near to nothing about the Pariahs?"

Benjamin ate at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. "Captain, most of what I am going to say are contradictions to ONI's claims. ONI gave me authorized access to files concomitant with Orta 'Rakzom when I was contracted by them to compile a public story; propaganda has its uses for the Arbiter as well. Unfortunately for ONI, I left plenty out of the report, hoping to sell it on to the highest bidder."

"I'm the highest bidder," I concluded, swirling my eyes around like olives in a pool of their juice. "I'm just_ stumbling_ across anything these days. Auctions have found their way to me. Or I to_ them_. If it's the latter, it sure as hell makes no sense since I wasn't seeking anything to warrant lurching across randomized events."

"It's easier to explain when the auction is city-wide." Benjamin looked down at Sydney's cityscape. His eyes peered to our destination—a tower aspiring to meet the clouds. The skyscraper belonged to one of Ugeous' sponsors and investors.

I understood him; we were closing in on our destination. "So, are you going to tell me anything before we arrive?"

"What I say will become ONI's knowledge; this Falcon's bugged, and that AI in your ear is recording everything," Benjamin said, not putting enough emotion in with his tone. He stilled gazed at the tower as if it were the home he longed for. "I could secretly bite the information from the bread, but ONI will pressure you into revealing it anyway. I also don't want to damage a longstanding, bountiful relationship."

"Saying what's not true won't do that," Black-Box said, sending his words to Benjamin, having no intention of following them up; they would never reach his target through me. "And Osman respects those who are careful around ONI well more than those who put too much trust into us. So, we have a thing for our enemies."

I sighed, bothered by Black-Box's words. "My estimate is that we have five minutes." Dean nodded at my assessment; the pilot was supplying him with aviation data through his headset. "Let's see if you can edify me in between now and the end of that number."

Keeping close with the pace, Benjamin sat up straight in his seat. "What do you know of Orta 'Rakzom?" Benjamin asked, tugging at the bristles of his eyebrows, mulling over a response to my reply, hoping that his expectancies were meticulously met.

"Just some snippets Red gave me," I replied, flicking my fingers off my palms. "It was essentially the basics; He's clever, cunning, resourceful, honorable." I massaged my thumb around my chin, circling it around a mole; the motion matched my brain activity. "Do you know of a Sangheili named Vale Nar 'Sarasee?"

Benjamin's eyes rocked and he nodded distantly. "I heard a lot about him from 'Rakzom. Apparently there's rumors surfacing in the Pariahs' inner workings that 'Rakzom's 'Sarasee's dead child."

"Impossible," Black-Box scoffed, ticking the tongue he did not have like he was an adult chiding a child. "The evidence has only been presented recently. Benjamin was projected with doing a biography on 'Rakzom almost a year ago!"

I could not keep my face normal. Conversely, Benjamin could not hold his tongue. "What's your AI saying?" Benjamin asked, taking an interest in the puzzlement shrouding my face, putting it together one piece at a time. "Did I take it off-guard?"

"The heritage 'Rakzom belongs to has only been established by ONI a week or so ago," I transmitted Black-Box's words, crossing my legs, doubtful. "Not even 'Rakzom knows though I doubt ONI's claims are legitimate; you—a_ civilian—_know a lot more than you_ should._"

Benjamin shrugged; the lack of evidence of my words was troubling but exploitable. He smiled, saying, " 'Rakzom has been aware that he has an uncanny similitude to the legendary Vale 'Sarasee for quite some time; he knew before ONI found out. His followers were quick to point it out."

"And it didn't go beyond rumors inside the group?" I asked dubiously, thinking of how it could all fit together so precisely. "That's hard to not call bullshit on."

"They're closely-knitted, Captain Jsarez," Benjamin said. He used his fingers to clench his thumb, cracking it. He reminded me of Campbell Joyce. "What goes on inside their following_ stays_ inside their following. 'Rakzom puts several tests in front of any person wanting to play his game of follow the leader. He_ always_ roots out those not reliable from those he views as his blood and soul. I had to go through the tests. They're not pretty."

Dean whistled to catch our attention, holding the dome of his headpiece covering his left ear. When he had our attention, he pointed to the skyscraper we were approaching, veering his forefinger around Benjamin to make the message clear.

The message got a distorted sigh to come through the headset connecting me and Benjamin to a secure communications channel. Unclear sounds were not filtered to the stage that voices were. "Back to the rumors," Benjamin said, grinding his voice and his mind for a way to wrap our talk up. "I've discussed them with 'Rakzom and he puts them down at every angle I attack him with."

"Not likely," Black-Box remarked in reply, sweeping his surveillance over Benjamin; he was cautious as he was skeptical. "The technology we're using was ripped straight from Forerunner designs; there is no way mistakes can be made. I supervised the visual representation of the genetic makeup being created, broken away and created again. They_ are_ the same. The only variation is the line of codes 'Rakzom gets from his mother."

"My AI disagrees," I conveyed, noting that Black-Box could be wrong; Artificial Intelligences worked on Human knowledge. Even Humans got to their limits—Black-Box did not want to admit it to himself, but the truth was active against the AI's self-denial.

Benjamin rubbed the bottom of his jaw, considering Black-Box's words alongside mine. "Why? Is my word not enough? How exactly is ONI aware of 'Rakzom and 'Sarasee's connection?" Benjamin was intent on clearing any obstacle to reach the truth, defeating Black-Box at his game and making right all his doubt.

"Keep it classified," Black-Box told me, swooping his voice down to a whisper that he believed would carry a larger substance than what was clear.

"I can't say—I can't dive in and give you the answers you seek," I told Benjamin, following Black-Box's words. Before I could continue, I braced myself; the Falcon began to descend to the pad on top of the skyscraper. The letters hanging from the tower, brightly illuminated by dots of red light covering the letters, spelled "Taskryn Development". "The information is credible," I added, rubbing my teeth down on their tips, "and that's all you need to know."

Black-Box shared his confound feelings. "The word of an individual Sangheili against incontrovertible evidence?" Black-Box made the sound of a rattling gate. "I'm not taking sides, Captain. Well, I am. But the side I'm taking is that which has the least doubtful amount of info."

My smile told Benjamin that I had just heard something from Black-Box. He regarded me oddly, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, perusing me like an old tomb. "What'd your AI say?"

"He says 'Rakzom's word hasn't got much to use against the ground ONI holds," I explained, oscitant. I blinked my eyes, trying to peel away at the nausea that was committed to making my head so densely thick that I fell unconscious.

The Falcon touched down on the pad with a lover's kiss. The pilot's skills saved me from losing what lunch I had at the abrasive impact that was the norm. Dean and I removed our headsets. Benjamin kept his.

Benjamin refused to move from his seat. I addressed this. "I don't think we've reached the end of our talk," I said, clipping the release button of my belt and climbing from my seat, gradually recovering my footing. "Are you going to wait here with the pilot?"

"No. I'm going to ask the pilot for a lift to Conningen Tower," Benjamin said, clicking his tongue. "He'll be fifteen minutes. You'll be in there for half an hour, at least. Your ride will be back by then." He tapped his headset and clicked over a switch, changing over to the pilot's channel. "Pilot, can you give me a ride to Conningen? I have someone to meet."

The pilot made his reply, causing Benjamin to nod and not proceed to undo his seatbelt. He flicked his hand up, flashing a farewell gesture with his fingers. "We'll have to meet up for a coffee sometime, talk more about what we can share. But do I have your_ full_ interest?"

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, defeated. I could come back and tell him off, but I yielded with a standing I was comfortable with. "I might give it a try. But I need more than secrets that ONI may or may not know." Benjamin flexed his arm, urging me to continue. "I'll be looking over some of your biographies. If they match what I'm looking for, I want you back for EDEN after me."

Benjamin seemed content with that and smiled; his lip pulled back to his right, forming a smile I found comparable to his character. The smile was bittersweet. "I was musing on whether to go ahead and ask you." He titled his non-existent chapeau. "I'll see you soon."

I spread my hand, giving a single parting gesture and followed Dean out of the Falcon's bay. We hurried to the elevator down into the tower's interior; the Falcon was booming to life, and no headsets meant no way of blocking the sound while magnifying voices for the recipient's suitability.

Dean was the first in the elevator and began probing for the button to the correct floor, receiving directions from Black-Box. I entered, turning to face the Falcon as it lifted off, giving one more parting nod to Benjamin. He did not see it. I took the chance to instead shake my head. I had just finished talking with a dangerous man. Dean knew it, too; he released a sigh of relief that it was over. The pressure went with every word that rung from Benjamin's mouth, carrying the weight of him planning to get what he wanted regardless of how I reacted to his approaches.

It was all leading away from one problem to another. The elevator shook as its mechanisms released it. The descent was slow, arrhythmic. The infrastructure of Sydney did not always seek to be on par with the rest of the worlds'. If the mechanics were up-to-date and were not hazardous, they were left. I made the bold assumption that there were regular maintenance checks.

Even Harvest kept industrial application invigorated by the year. The cities of Harvest were newer than Sydney, but even updated engineering was not an oversight. I was far safer on the elevators on Harvest and Arcadia than I was on the elevators' of Sydney. It was part because my mother always calmed my fears of elevators. Here there was no one. Dean could be confided in, but I would not be consoled for a fear of a salient piece of Human engineering.

I thought of my relationship with Dean. It could not be explained in words, I always thought. We were intimate friends; we were affectionate, caring, close. I did not know him for long, but I felt like I had known him for years. And our relationship was not romantic; cuddling and other physical contact was under the relationship, but friends could hug, lean on one's shoulder, and nestle up together. That was after years of a trust being built. The years passed in one night for me and Dean. It felt right being around him, and he felt the same.

However, people would not understand. They craved to understand, but when they could not, they pointed their finger and cried that it was not normal. Anything they could not comprehend was abnormal because they were so_ wise_ and so_ worldly_ that it was impracticable for anything to elude their knowledge. They knew_ everything_. Except the Covenant's arrival. Some people would affiliate the Covenant with God. Those people claimed they were wise. They thought themselves sagacious.

The elevator ground to a stop, breaking me from my reflections. A few seconds later, the doors slid apart. Dissimilar exiting a tower, entering one had artificial light to greet you with its ambient blue beams streaking across the tiles and creating another pattern than what was fashioned by architects.

Standing on the lit tiles was Dwayne Stock, Chief Executive Officer and owner of Ugeous. He met me and Dean with a smile, two of his associates erected by his side. Both had uncommunicative faces; the two did not want what they were thinking to be noticeable. Stock was wearing a face of joy. His smile threatened to rip his face apart.

His smile reassured me, and I left the lift, wearing a face of exuberance, Dean by my side. I reached my hand out and smacked it into a shake with Stock as he reached his hand out. I stepped back, letting Dean to the same. As Dean shook Stock's hand, I reached out to shake the hand of one of the extras. He did not expect it, but reluctantly shook it. I then moved over to the last person, shaking his hand. He was at least more eager to make my acquaintance.

I asked for both of their names as I shook their hands, giving mine in return. Dominic Truste and Daniel Poland were what I heard. One—the_ friendlier_ one—introduced himself as the CEO of Taskryn Development. The other had to be the encumbrance Stock's board committee put on him. They would not relent in their control of him for a moment.

This fact made It clear that I needed to take control of Ugeous. Stock wanted that as well; I saw fear in his eyes, dark fear. Compunction was there, too. He hated himself; he watched the live broadcast, and it helped remind him of what was true to only a certain level of authenticity.

But right now, Stock was calmed by my friendly gestures. He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, smiling. "You look so much like your mother."

That approach got a smile in reply. "How is she?"

Before responding, Stock looked around and turned, waving for me to follow him down the corridor breaking off from the pad-reception chamber. When we all began to fall in, he said, "She's good. I gave her a call yesterday to tell her that you returned. She's apprehensive about believing, but trusts me."

"She has that capability?" I asked, joining Stock, Poland and Truste, Dean following me closely.

"She's recovered quite a lot from her psychical handicap," Stock said, using all the best words to avoid offense. "But she still can't look after herself, and it's not uncommon for her to enter fits of anger, depression, frustration." Stock peered over his shoulder at me, bulging an eyebrow, making his brows slant "You_ do_ plan on seeing her?"

"Yes." In truth, I would have seen her already. But Red and I could not be seen out in public unless necessary; we both looked too similar, and ONI had to mask Red in armor when he was in the spotlight. No one complained when seeing a SPARTAN in their "SPARTAN armor". It was being arranged for me and Red to meet our mother under the cover of militaristic facilities.

"That's good," Stock replied to my confirmation of my plans to see my mother. He added with a low pitched tone, "I'm certain you'll do her good." Stock rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We were good friends. Then your father died. . . ." Stock swallowed a lump in his throat. "She lost a lot of common sense not long after. She started calling out for your name when I made regular visits. She screamed apologies to you, making it known that she regretted not believing_ something_ you told her."

He knew that "something", I immediately realized. My father placed a lot of trust in him. Maybe too much trust. I would follow him up on it. I would pursue what he knew or did not know.

Upon shushing my eyes to keep them from widening, we reached another elevator. We all entered it. I felt safer as it was a newer model. Stock then selected which floor to go to and jabbed his finger down onto the button. We were ascending to Poland's office—Daniel Poland was the CEO.

"You're father never gave up hope on you," Stock said. "In '48, the families of those missing got together and petitioned for the UEG to sanction a search-and-rescue, headed by relatives. Your father so desperately wanted to go. I guess, in the end, I only postponed the inevitable."

After the UNSC_ Kryptonite_ was declared Missing in Action, the many families of those missing got together and launched a public-funded search-and-rescue. The search parties were all killed by advancing Covenant fleets.

Five of the surviving crew of the_ Kryptonite_ came home to find out that some of their relatives had been killed looking for_ them_. Two of the dead relatives would have survived the war and seen their missing relations if they had not died.

"You didn't delay the inevitable," I said upon arranging the facts, choking down gags. Dean reached for my hand, feeling my pain emit like a stench. "If my father died sooner, my mother would still have broken down. If it was longer than the three or so years it's been, there might never have been a possibility of return for her. There's hope now—if my father died sooner, what hope there is for her recovery may be lost."

"You've got your father's smarts," Stock said, smiling, flinging the hanging flap of his coat behind his legs. "He often compared himself to you. That always made me hope that you would return home through your conviction to get things done."

What he said solidified my firm beliefs. My goals behind joining the Navy were not covered up for Stock. He knew that I joined the Navy to look for Red, fearing that he somehow was entangled with the Office of Naval Intelligence; ONI had a reputation. My father began using family inheritances and government support to start up his own local business. He planned to expand the business to Earth's global market. He succeeded while I was missing, and funded the search-and-rescue effort. Initially, the funding was going to counter-intelligence agencies.

It took years to convince my father that Red was alive. My mother never believed us. She buried Red's_ clone—_we all did. Red's death was too hard on her to cope. Doctors diagnosed my mother with bipolar. Treatment was hard for my mother; she denied that anything was wrong with her with the same intensity that she denied Red's survival.

For Red's sake, I would make her know that he was alive and present. The First step was always first. The elevator stopped, shuddering lightly. The doors parted, and more artificial light entered the small compartment. It was not alone; natural light, filtered by glass, shone through windows that served as the frontal wall of Poland's office, allowing a serene view across the city.

The office itself was unnecessarily ornament in brought products—public-cleared Covenant relics, priceless merchandise, ancient statues—and a bar was set up in a corner. The evocative bar brought memories that compared it to the_ Kryptonite_. There was a pool table on a red rug thrown across the middle of the tiled ground. Furnishers had Sofas positioned around a coffee table. That was not all; plants hung over the living area, the ferns blowing in the current of the cold breeze from the air-conditioning vents.

"Take a seat," Poland said, waving over to the living area as he went over to the bar to serve drinks. Dean, brand-specific in nature, went with him, leaving me, Stock, and Truste to take our seats. Truste and Stock sat on the couch opposite of mine. Poland came with several glasses of wine and placed them down on the coffee table with a bottle. Before Dean could join us, Poland sat next to me, taking up all the space. Dean returned with a glass and bottle for himself and disinclined to take a seat on the single chair to the left of the parallel couches. He never took his eyes of Poland for a moment.

Antagonism was rising. Stock said tensely, "I guess we should get to the meat of what this is all about," Stock was reluctant to give up speaking to me. He had something he wanted to say. He could not say what he needed to say in his position. He could only wiggle his fingers about in his folded hands and ignore the impulse.

I noticed his discomfort but ignored it. "Yeah. It's best not to avoid the dirty stuff." I leaned forward; my full concentration was there, ready to take the battle to two fronts, defending a single front synchronously. "Did you watch the live broadcast?"

"Yeah," Stock said, head drooping. With a sad smile, he added, "I'm sorry you see what I've done as betrayal to your father—"

"I don't." I got off the lounge, wine glass in hand. "I just don't think you have the balls to stand up against those who_ would_ betray my father." I walked around, situating myself behind the couch Truste and Stock were on. I shifted over. When I was behind Truste, I tipped my wine glass, spilling the red liquid over Truste's head.

"Ah, you get it," Black-Box said, a wicked tightening going with his voice, caused by his marvel Dean agree with Black-Box, smiling from where he sat. Truste and Stock made it too obvious; they were not discreet in broadcasting their emotions between each other, secretly conveying messages to keep the conversation in their zone.

"She's got her father's spirit," Stock finally said. Emotion was now a foreign concept for him. He looked at me. He was afraid. Ugeous had more dirt covering their feet than I thought if he feared them at the level he did. "Yusef didn't much like Dominic either. First impressions were . . ._ similar_."

I wondered how similar. I said, "At the time, I bet Mister Truste, here, was just an ass." I moved over to Dean's seat, placing my empty glass onto the wine table and resting myself on the arm of Dean's chair, giving Poland a look that said,_ just in case you were thinking what I thought you were thinking, go fuck yourself_. I looked to Stock and Truste. They made a brilliant opposing duo. "Now, mister Truste is more dangerous. He's a_ powerful_ ass."

Truste did not reply at first. He slid a finger over his face. The moisture of his finger picked up the red wine dripping down his cheeks. Not respecting the fact that it went through his oiled hair, Truste slipped his finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the tip of the finger to pick up the juice. He removed his finger, finished, and said, "Your use of slang is unbefitting for this occasion. I keep to a courtesy, and so should you."

"Was my father courteous?" I asked, smiling wryly; the man I grew up knowing would not tolerate patronization or contention with what he made clear. My father said things and those things were final.

Truste did not understand nor expect my question to be a reason. "No. Yes in part; he indirectly insulted and attacked me. This was after he was verbally aggressive towards me." Truste peered his eye towards Stock, who continued to hold his attention to me. "But your father learned courtesy from Mister Stock here. That only made it worse; it made his insults smart. He was not a smart man."

I flung my finger up, pointing it at Truste. He had made an error of judgment, yet he continued to drink from his wine glass as if nothing was wrong. "Neither are you," I said, biting my tongue to keep more from spilling from my mouth.

Truste's brows furrowed and his lips edged into a devious smile. "Oh? How so?" Truste's smile resumed a neutral shape as he folded his arms over his chest. "Please tell me. After holding Ugeous up as long as I have, I would like to know how_ I_ could possibly be any less smarter than your father, who wasted away our financial resourcing on digressive reserves."

A grin formed on my face—it almost matched the one Truste wore several seconds earlier. To add to the attack, Dean smiled as well.. I broke it to Truste—I did not simplify what I said for his benefit. "Want to see an example of why you aren't smart?" I clicked my fingers, and the words fell from my mouth. "You just admitted to holding Ugeous on your shoulders when_ Stock_ is the CEO. You're only the Chief in one sector; you're not even the vice president, or whatever other term you use."

Truste hid his surprise well. But his eyes flickered; he was alarmed that he had fallen into my trap. It was solidified: Stock was under heavy pressure—perhaps pressure that was even_ dangerous—_and if I could get him to resort to boosting his self-confidence, Ugeous would be mine. Truste would not be able to fight me if the CEO honors my father's last will and testimony.

"Stock is incompetent," Truste eventually said after an elongated session of considering his words and taking sips from his wine. "The 'vice president' is incompetent. Only_ me_ and select few are keeping this company above water and away from icebergs."

I smacked my lips together, making an explicit gesture—_I call bullshit on your excuses_. "I'm not incompetent." I flicked a blade of hair from my face. My hair was galling even when it was short. "Now if you consider that, perhaps maybe taking your dick out of Stock's ass will not be so bad—"

"I won't do anything when you use those vile words," Truste said, glaring at me in disapproval and disgust; as if he was not everything he saw_ me_ as.

I would not let him mistake himself. "If I say please, will you reconsider?" I asked, lowering my pitch to sound like a little girl; mocking him would aggravate him. He was the type to easily be aggravated.

Stock took a deep breath, forestalling Truste's reply. Stock said, with as much courage he could muster, "Why don't you ask me, Captain Jsarez?" Stock got up from his seat and peered down at Truste, who remained seated. "And could you be fast about it? Now that my anal canal is unblocked, I need to go for a shit."

I retracted my assertion of my father having an abominable choice of friends. Stock and my father were alike in various different ways. One stood above the others: They both could not care less about courtesy. Another was that they were both cowards when standing alone.

Stock still required shoving, and so I shoved. "Be careful to check your stool for blood." I shrugged at the look Stock gave me. "You might have a STD."

Truste huffed in disgust, shaking his head with his mouth shaping an ellipse. "Outer colonist. Indecent as they are cunning." Stock huffed again—this time was in defeat. He got to his feet and shrugged. "Okay, Misses Jsarez, we'll do it_ your_ way."

My eyes were stuck to Truste like glue and angled like someone carved that glue into a sharp image. "Just like that?" I asked.

"Just like that," Truste repeated, confirming my question with a faineant nod. He crossed his arms and glanced at Stock from the corner of his eye. He also glanced at Poland before his eyes finally settled on me; his decision was final. "The PR fallout from_ not_ following the right legislation will be significantly major to the minor flak we'll get if daddy's little girl messes this all up."

"I won't," I replied, believing what I said with all my weight in sense. "Just rub some dirt on your sensitive pride and do what you're told. Remember, Stock's in charge—I'll soon be in charge in his stead. And there's nothing you can do to stop me; the_ highest_, most_ publically_ displayed tribunal won't stop me. So, whether or not you—or your board buddies—agree with Stock's_ wise_ decision to uphold my father's last wish doesn't matter to me as in the end, I'll be in Stocks spot and you'll be out on your ass unless you_ shut up_ and do your_ job_."

Dean leaned forward and placed his wine glass over on the coffee table, steadying me with his free hand as he leaned back, saying, "Three strike rule?" His grin added a layer of cracking to his already artificial voice.

I nodded. "Yeah. Fucking with my dad to begin with was your first strike. Being a natural asshole was your second." I tapped Dean's arm and hopped off the arm of his seat. Following my signal, he also got up. "You have one last chance, Truste."

Truste swirled his wine around in his glass, looking at it with wonder, confounding me. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said, licking the wine sticking to his face from his lips.

"Well, we should conclude this." Poland clapped his hands before hefting his shoulders forward as he slapped his hands off his knees. Poland proceeded with a grin. "Unfortunately, the handover has to be done with our attorneys present. And since a handover wasn't planned, our lawyers are still in Boston."

"So how do we manage this?" I asked, watching Poland with a pair of askant eyes as he took all the wine glasses and bottles over to his bar.

"The lawyers can arrive in less than a day," Stock said. He spoke with a new-found courage as he eyed Truste down, taking a seat next to his associate and nemesis. "That's one problem resolved."

"The next is getting your own attorney," Truste added. Now that he and Stock were at a manner of ease from the years-old tension between the two, they both showed a cooperative, strategical side. Perhaps I was mistaken. I just took what I saw as a frame for a picture. "That should be simple. You have power, Jsarez; people_ are_ aware of that—"

"Just not_ you_," I said, frowning, crossing my arms and using my eyes to remind him that he was not as intellectually supreme as he made himself out to be; external appearances were betraying and people took advantage of that exploit to shade their internal appearance.

Truste knew shading well. He began acting innocent—not with a superficial child-like demeanor. He crooked his mouth and canted his head. "You like to play the pronoun game, Jsarez?"

"You like to play dumb, Truste?" I retorted pungently, sharp-eyed and almost trembling at the thought of just hitting him.

"Are you two still going for each others' throats?" Poland asked calculatingly as he returned to the living area, vaulting over the back cushions of the couch and bouncing into its rest.

"She provoked me—"

My salvo of timed laughs stopped Truste dead in his tracks. I discontinued laughing, waited for him to say something, and started laughing again. This offense occurred three more times before I said, "Yeah, I provoked you. But what you just said prompts me of the memory of when I used to bitch up to my mom . . . when I hit my brother or something."

Black-Box broke in, cracking, ending a laugh I never heard. "Does that chemistry still exist?"

I panicked for a second; I neglected that what Black-Box said was confined to my and Dean's ears only. After closing my eyes for a second to prepare to counter any questions that Truste or Poland may have raised, I relaxed, letting my muscles unclench—the comfort was near something I could not withstand.

"You don't look any better; you provoked him, Courtney," Dean said, muffling his laugh from Black-Box's remark. He harnessed it in an elegant temperature of concealment, but some things could not be controlled. His semisynthetic laughs passed as tumultuous toning of the prosthesis vocals.

Between his laugh and smack remark, I could not resolve on which bothered me more. Taken into mentation that his joking was utilized to cheer me up, I found the laughing more annoying. His laughing could also lure stray observations. "I'm happy being a child as long as I'm_ me_," I told Dean.

"Point taken."

Stock paced around the coffee table, dragging his fingers across the glass surface. "Yes, that's all well and good," Stock said. "But there's no place for children in this industry. Of course, be yourself—I won't deny you that right. But you two should get along with each other. For the best."

"For the best," I repeated, in-depth with my mind, musing—I was not consciously found by bafflement's search, but I was speculative on how forward me and Truste could go. Some things needed one to abide by chance. I looked to Truste, causing Stock to stop pacing and for Truste to bite his lower lip. "Alright, we'll give it a go. Or_ I_ will. How 'bout you, Truste?" I mimicked Truste in crossing my arms

Truste's eyes fell to the floor, staring into an abyss for an answer. His eyes soon met mine. He said, "Ugeous is my primary concern. Perhaps you can lead Ugeous into the dawn of a new world. Perhaps you can't."

"Why couldn't I?"

"Because you're too caring for people who don't need your care." Truste scratched his ear lobe. His eye cramped with the friction. "You want to fund EDEN with Ugeous' financial banks. I don't agree with that, but I don't have much of a choice." Truste flicked his finger up at me. "When the fallout happens, I plan on being there."

I smiled. "And I'll be there to tease you about being dead wrong when you're on your deathbed."

Poland clapped his hands conclusively. "All good?" He pulled himself from the couch, wriggling his body as he moved, like a worm shifting from one molecule of dirt to another. " 'Cause we've got business to do. Truste?"

"I'm good."

Stock cleared his throat. "Right. Courtney, I have your details—do you have mine?"

I nodded, regrouping with Dean behind the seat. I leaned against the back of the cushion. "Yep. Datapad? Designated public AI representative?"

"Got it all." Stock nodded, beating his tongue against the rims of his lips, feeling the ridges in the tissue. With a voice of potency, he said, "I'll hail you down when our attorneys get here. You should get one of your own." He chuckled nervously at a sideways glance I gave him. "Just a recommendation. Either way, we can at least agree that we should continue this_ after_ the Tribute."

"I would listen to him, Jsarez," Truste added. "It's all a downcast to public opinion. And that of your soldiers. They won't be too happy to see you focus on business with your family's company over their own psychological well-being."

"I get it," I said. I tugged at Dean's shirt, getting him to turn to me where I inclined my head to the door, signaling our time to leave. He followed me over to the elevator—we moved gradually to give the three business men time to say several more words. They would remain here and drink, talk and eventually fence with their words.

"It was great to have worked this out," Stock said, sliding up next to Poland and Truste; all three watched us move into the elevator, one step after another.

I turned around in the lift as I entered, leaving the buttons to Dean. "I agree." I looked to Truste and to Poland. "This could've gone down shit creek faster than any of us would like. I'm no woman for words and civility; I was a Captain of a ship full of people who leave shit in my mouth with what they say and do. But we'll shuffle around and make this work."

"Yes, it'll be an interesting experience," Truste said, shaking his eyes, half convinced by his words and half unsure. "I, for one, hope to see this go uphill rather than down to shit creek. I may not show it, but I_ do_ hope this isn't all going to end badly."

I cast off a smile and huffed admirably. The doors slid shut half way through my huff and the elevator shuddered, descending back to landing pad's reception chamber. It had been around half an hour, but it did not matter. The Falcon would be back; it had been past fifteen minutes.

Dean cleared his throat, thumping his hand against his chest to clear his cavities. "So, Stock's like your own father, just not with his bravery—"

"My father got real scared under pressure," I said just to be incongruous. "Everyone does. You put someone in a challenging situation at an emotional time and you take away all of their supports and you don't relent on your dominant goal of being paramount, that person becomes like Stock. My father . . . he wouldn't have been immune. Neither would you or me."

"When did you figure this out? With Stock?"

"Immediately," I said, like a viper striking to asseverate itself as the predator. "I'm just a good judge of character; I attach myself to this certain outlook . . ." I lost my words, stuttering, trying to break through an inexplicable barrier. I was a good judge of character. Humans were harder to read than aliens; talking to Vale and Thel had proved instructive on that. I learned, through them, a skill—maybe two—on who to trust and in what shape I could morph that trust into.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

I nodded, too fast; I was too quick to confirm my well-being. Dean was one to worry; I had to keep him in a circle, that was the deal. "Yeah." I moved my fingers up to my earpiece, checking my link with Black-Box. Inhaling deeply, I said, "BB, get me in a one-on-one meeting with Osman."

It was time to put what the figure said into action.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Was Sunday/Monday something or what? Still, I will not give in to hype. But enough about that; I already put too much content in a zone dedicated for notes, not blogs.

Thanks go to **Joat the Goat**, **Fleightfire**, **The Constitutionalist**, **Trusne**, **Starart132**, and **Tmachgaming **for reviewing the last chapter. Not only do your reviews boost my confidence and give me feedback, but they also build up to the next "special" which offer some backstory for those interested.

Special thanks goes to **Tmachgaming **for proofreading and giving me some words of encouragement. Again, he is one person, so he would have likely missed some errors, which is fine as there is only so much the Human mind can process at any given time.

Finally, thank you **MJRivero **and **cloudkllr4025 **for following. I hope you two stick around to see this expression of gratitude.

Now, if you would excuse me, I want to get back to playing "This War of Mine". I had meant to buy it through Steam for a while, and I do not regret the purchase. The raw emotions I got from robbing an elderly couple prooves that this game has something that not many others do.


	60. Daytime Conundrums

**(-(-(—****[]Hallas Day[]****—)-)-)**

* * *

><p>Nothing in architectonics tamed the notion that Kyoto was a city of no equal. Lucent cities on Earth were in abundance and Kyoto's luminosity was not looked upon as typical, corporate advertisement; the brightness of the city was a cultural significance. As was its comprising substratum structure and the people that pulled it all together into the perfect economic metropolitan hub.<p>

Suburban blocks were inhumed under overlaying highways. The freeways were raised by support columns that ran the dimension of the city and voluted around towering edifices. Near all skyscrapers had promotional logos or a sentence of letters hanging near the hood of the tower. The logos and letters were illuminated even during the day with artificial lighting. The lights intensified at night as if to create a light show rather than promote commodities and services.

None of Kyoto was a breath-taking picturesque sight for Hallas Day's juicy light brown eyes and their keen critique. The city glorified advertisement. The city also glorified the appliance of lights to almost everything connected up to a power grid. The sight did not take Hallas' breath away. He looked to entertain his nostalgia. His primary focus was his legs. His feet cramped in anticipation. Hallas' escort convoy was nearing his family's mansion, built on the side of his parent's privately owned university that once served Hallas as a school when he was sixteen.

Hallas recited several phrases in his head. Speaking Japanese had not been a required of him for over a year. He had been drilling himself since the Office of Naval Intelligence gave him the slip he needed to return to Kyoto. It was eight days since the crew of the_ Kryptonite_ was transferred to Sydney. Hallas was kept in Sydney for seven days. He was only permitted to speak with his family via a visual uplink.

There would soon be face-on-face contact. Hallas squirmed in his seat as the black sport utility vehicle serving him turned an intersection. The forward section of the convoy shifted first; the rear went last, sliding in parallel to the lane of traffic seeking their destinations in the opposing direction. Hallas' SUV was center of the convoy for security measures. The position provided a tenuous glimpse at what was waiting on the street they turned off from before the front of Hallas' view was replaced with black SUV upon black SUV.

Hallas remembered the intersection and realized that he was nearing his home. A smile wiggled onto his face, and he let his eyes run wild, darting through the window by his side, taking in all the landmarks and icons of his home. Nothing had changed over the past nine years. Hallas had not expected change nor other shifts in the consistency the Japanese kept, rooted in tradition.

Hallas turned to his bodyguard, who sat beside him in the SUV's back row of seats, abysmally discomfited in his appointed assignment. "Listen, there's going to be a ton of people at the gates of the mansion," Hallas said. He quickly waved his hand to deny any suspicion of the public. "They'll be fine. And we should be safe in here. Just keep your eyes out for any assassins_ in_ the crowd—foreign or otherwise doesn't matter. "

Black-Box emphasized the danger Hallas was facing from Insurrection movement and Human-employed mercenaries working for Covenant splinter factions. The thought of threats of political violence to the detriment of his family unnerved Hallas.

"Understood, sir." The guard keyed his earpiece, acquiring orders. "Governmental forces will be on-station at the gate and end-to-end of vantage points."

Hallas nodded and returned to examining passing buildings and landmarks. When he saw the beginning of the lanes of cherry blossoms Hallas shifted upright in his seat and looked past the two chairs in front of him that blocked his view. Relocating himself opened up a viewport. He saw his family's university with the mansion connected via concrete integration.

Surrounding the University of Science and Variants was reinforced steel fencing placed at wide intervals. There were two gates. One gate opened up to the sweep of the mansion's yards. The second gate opened up to the reception grounds of the university. The grounds were large with gardens sprouting foreign plants alongside native foliage. Cherry blossoms encircled the round gardens of the grounds. Monuments to Wallace Fujikawa and other ancestors of the Day family were erected in center locations. The monuments were surrounded by gardens to add more emphasis to their obvious importance and to bespeak to vandals that their targets being nourished in counter-criminal gizmos was a folk tale.

"Nice place," the guard said with an authentic blaze of fascination. He had never seen the natural beauty of Japan. The beauty was an aspect Hallas' parents and their parents fought to preserve with their university. But had education ever beaten politics?_ That is an argument for the ages. The Sangheili have it easy—education is politically relevant. _

The gates were open. Barriers kept the aggregation of people piqued with curiosity from the road. Police and soldiers patrolled the driveway, throwing themselves about in a fashion that was superfluous for anything other than security and sending a point to people who had a suspicious glint in their eyes.

Clamoring erupted as the convoy pulled into the driveway leading into the mansion's compound. Police and soldiers hurried off the road. They began watching the crowd intently with a purpose that expected trouble.

Hallas took a deep breath. The convoy began entering the mansion's grounds, one SUV at a time. He kept his vision straight, not looking at the crowd as the vehicles passed the barriers. The tinted windows offered him solace from the crowd's gaze; a self-esteem issue with looking at the crowd was not the problem. Hallas was nervous. Hallas tended to convert to a state of a low attention-span when he was nervous, with a singular target picked to isolate him in a world dedicated to him alone. The target was presently his parents standing at the base of the double stone staircases built to receive any guest or resident with splendor. Hallas always found it a classy design. He did not mind the unparalleled flavor.

A garden was situated in the center of the compound, comprised of cherry blossoms, a variety of maples, planted Bonsai. The garden had several plagues of deceased ancestors and relatives of the Day family, some with urns holding the ashes of cremated bodies. A crypt was located in the center of the garden, leading to a below-ground sepulcher. The vault stored the ashes or remains of deceased relatives if they favored long-standing Western burial rites or just did not want their ashes purloined for ransom.

The convoy parked around the brick half wall of the reception yard's round garden. The parking angle began at the mid left slant, ending at the center right. Hallas' SUV was center of the convoy, diametric to the stairs his family, close relatives and friends stood at. Hallas' parents, Levie and Helen Day, were present with Hallas' sister, Tanze Yurika. By Tanze's side was her husband, Okeme Yurika, and her son, Kyon Yurika, a young boy whose head only orbited the waistline of his mother with rustles of black hair patching his scalp.

Others included faces Hallas was elated to spot. There were old friends, relatives, business partners of his parents. Hallas was briefly stunned into a chilled marvel upon seeing the collection of acquaintances. Hallas scrutinized the mass further. No indication allowed Hallas to assume the people he was expecting to have adopted common courtesy, as usual, were present, as he so thought._ Maybe their predictions are the cause of their absence. _

"Remember to keep in act," the bodyguard said.

The bodyguard was going to play an act of being Hallas' work proponent to maintain a safe presentation around his family. Panic was to be debarred along with displaying an open invitation for assassins.

"You don't have to remind me," Hallas said wearily, a sigh passing with his tone like a rogue child escaping the arms of his parents. "Scientists are meant to take into account the smallest pieces of advice. What you said earlier today isn't anything remotely similar to_ small_."

"Tired, doctor?" Black-Box asked, voice bouncing through Hallas' earpiece.

"No, BB . . . I'm just anxious."_ Seeing Hurume's face would be great for my confidence_, Hallas thought concurrently.

The guard wrapped his fingers around the handle of the side door, gripping the lever harder than necessary, anticipating trouble. He pulled the handle, unlocking the door before pushing it open. Hallas followed the guard, shambling from the vehicle's rear. They both pulled themselves out and onto their feet. Hallas placed his eyes on the assemblage of his friends and family as fast as manageable.

_God, they have grown_, Hallas thought lamentably. He closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. He recovered himself, equipped a smile and began walking over to the gathering with the guard behind him. Hallas noted the lack of drones around him or around the airspace of the mansion. Governmental formals interdicted drones in the premise of the university and its companion mansion. The precautions were provided for respect and security purposes.

Hallas placed one foot before the other and let his self-aware desire to be within touching distance of his family take control of his body and guide him. Every step he took, the figures of his relations grew and the sun descended all the more, causing their cast silhouettes to expand.

The guard and several more ONI agents were behind Hallas. They had the decency to allow him the space needed to be in a comfortable zone with his family. Hallas stopped in front of his relations. He shifted to start with his mother, wearing a gloomy smile and ignoring the crisp lineaments of her expiring age.

"Hey, mom," Hallas said, voice croaky. The visual uplink Hallas and his parents and sister shared provided only a brief taste of closure. Tears were shed and more were inevitable when a screen was not there to keep the family divided.

Helen Day draped her arms around her son's neck and pulled him in for a tightening hug. She gagged on tormented croaks._ "What happened?! What happened?!"_ she demanded. Her tight hold stopped any reply from leaving Hallas' lips. "You're_ really_ here!"

Levie Day joined in, embracing both his wife and son in a single hug the trio shared. From the corner of his eye, Hallas saw his sister resist the urge to add herself in the embrace.

"_I'm so sorry."_ Hallas' voice broke. "I should have never left Earth._ I'm so sorry_."

Helen and Levie both pulled away, sniffing. Helen was the one to speak first. "Don't_ ever_ bring up what happened in the past. You're here now. I can't even think of the past."

"She's right," Levie said, recovering the wholeness of his voice. "All that matters is_ now—here_ and_ now_. What happened nine years ago happened nine years ago. It's a critical father who allows the past to ruin his present relationship with his son. I told you this yesterday. Don't be so quick to forget it."

Almost everything was in the air between Hallas and his family over the seven days they had contact. Actualized presence carried up what was already cleared. Hallas knew that much of what they spoke of earlier in the week would again become relevant.

"I just want to give justification to my future actions," Hallas said. "I'm never leaving Earth again._ Never._ No matter what. Unless you leave Earth. To clarify, I'm not leaving your side."_ And so goes the career opportunity of working on the UNSC Infinity._

"We couldn't be _glad_der to hear that." Helen looked over her shoulder to Levie, who smiled encouragingly. Helen returned her face to Hallas. She brushed her hand over her son's face. "We'll talk more inside. Your . . . companions—"

"They're associates," Hallas hastily said. "I'll explain who they are later. But right now, they need a room to stay in. Sorry to dump a load on you—I know you never liked surprises."

Helen smiled, cracking the inverted shape of her mouth to kindly create a reassuring expression. She wiped tears away with her shoulder "It's absolutely fine, love. You companions are welcome." Helen turned around. Levie did the same. Both began up the left staircase. The other relations began up either the same or the alternative option. Hallas followed his parents, the ONI agents quick on his tail.

The brick ground soon shifted to marble. Hallas entered the mansion he had grown up in, agents and relations encircling him. Once all were clear of the entryway's stone framing, the doors were shut by Okeme and Levie.

The line of twilight grew slimmer and slimmer. Tanze embraced Hallas when the line was extinguished and replaced by the artificial light coming from digitally controlled chandeliers or lights embedded in the high rising ceiling. Tanze never spoke a word until she broke off and returned to her husband's side. The mystery man walked in front of Hallas, wielding a smile Hallas could trust._ That smile is not coated in honey. He's decent. Tanze wouldn't be with him otherwise_.

Helen walked up by her son's side. She gently touched Hallas' shoulder and watched her husband join the crowd of surrounding friends and relatives. "Hallas, this is the fabled Okeme Yurika I told you about."

Hallas was about to bow when he was taken off-guard; Okeme held his hand out for Hallas to shake. He smiled at Hallas' lapse, saying, "For your comfort, I think everyone here should keep to a social custom you're most acquainted with."

The crowd murmured their agreement.

Hallas chuckled nervously. Okeme spoke fluent English and the family Hallas expected on being present were not; his refinement of Japanese the past couple days was unnecessary. Gaining a rejuvenation of courage, Hallas took hold of Okeme's hand and shook it. Hallas then looked to his sister by Okeme's side. "Is this what comes out of the_ 'I'm never going to marry anyone'_ argument you always bought up?"

Tanze smiled sportively and nudged her son, Kyon, forward. "Hallas, this is the son I've been boasting about," Tanze said giddily, proud of her creation. "This is Kyon. He's been excited to meet you, of course, and he's curious—_so be nice_."

Kyon, only aged six, did not do or say anything. He stood still in the presence of his mystery uncle, preoccupied with the bemusing thoughts of how someone who his family had said was dead was standing before him. His black hair, olive skin and sharp brown eyes matched his mother's features. Hallas and Tanze always looked similar; in Kyon, Hallas saw himself. He also saw Red Jsarez. Hallas began to feel a sickening clench of his stomach muscles and a multitude of disturbing imagery circled his mind like a crown, growing bolder in time and lessening before repeating the cycle.

Hallas could only utter, "Hello," before he left his sister and her family to greet the other relatives and friends.

Business associates, family friends, tutors from the university, relatives such as aunts, uncles, cousins and other distant relations welcomed Hallas back to the family, shaking his hand or bowing. Everyone bowed as far as their according age allowed, conferring more than an average amount of respect upon Hallas.

After several minutes of conversation between everyone, people started to break off to corridors near the atrium of the mansion, retreating into the depths. Tanze and her family soon also broke off. They took the ONI agents to their quarters and to familiarize them with the layout of the mansion. Kyon kept close to his parents' legs. Hallas was incapable of subtracting his intrigue from the young boy.

Hallas was led by his parents into the massive dining room of the mansion. They explained why the relatives and friends did not leave the mansion. A dinner was being hosted in honor of Hallas' return._ I'll have to get what quiet I can before that_, Hallas thought when at first hearing the news.

His parents did not explain the missing family Hallas expected to be present. He resorted to raising his question to the stirring of what he anticipated being excuses, fabricated tales or preservation from the truth. "Where are the Mitsukawas?"

"Oh? They'll be around later in the afternoon," Helen explained. She sighed, pulling out one seat from the long, wooden table heavily engraved with patterns and symbolic dedications. Helen took a seat on the chair. She added with a raspy grunt, "They would've come sooner, but they wanted to wait until you got comfortable before coming here and risking Hurume jumping all over you."

"She may not have married . . ." Hallas lost his words. In an instance, he caught them and continued. "Bu-but what's to say she's_ still_ interested in me? She's_ eight_ years older than me."

"What's to say?" Levie chuckled, taking a seat next to his wife. "When news of your survival reached us, we got an immediate call from the Mitsukawas, demanding information. We met up soon after—talking in person was best suited when regarding you. Hurume was there, and she asked the bulk of the questions. . . . As expected, most questions were to your health. I inquired, and she still_ loves_ you, Hallas. That's never changed. It was obvious in her alienation and patent mental scarring post the military listing you as missing."

Hallas leaned on the table, releasing a single dead laugh. "Could you clarify what you mean by 'jumping all over me' in regard to Hurume?"

Levie grinned teasingly._ "You know?"_

_Resuming our usual chemistry should rid the atmosphere of any awkwardness_. Hallas crossed his arms, a pose he took whenever he was standing his ground against his parents. "Myruzi's coming as well, right? I need to be around both of them. That's what a_ good_ friend would do."

Myruzi Mitsukawa was Hurume's brother and Hallas' best friend asides from Campbell Joyce and Brian Davis. All of the Mitsukawa family were close friends of the Day family.

"I'm sure Myruzi will understand if you and Hurume need some time alone," Helen assured, using her_ I know everything_ tone. "He's not one who's not used to being at the back of the room before. Besides, he has his own family he'll want to be around."

"We'll entertain him," Levie said. "You just be with Hurume."

Hallas was open with his romance around his parents. He did not find the discussion and disclosure of intimate details embarrassing. Hurume did not share the same feelings towards her family. She only reluctantly allowed Hallas to confide with his parents about their relationship.

Black-Box decided to intervene, preventing the advance of the conversation by offering food for another. "Doctor, I've done some digging and I found something I need your help in dealing with."

Hallas held his finger up to hush his parents before using his other finger to tap his concealed earpiece. "Go ahead."

"Well, with every new person that you—or the others—meet, I find it necessary to do some research." Black-Box made the sound of pages shuffling, further adding emphasis and a comedic value. "I'll get to the point—you're busy. The point is that your parents have been holding meetings in regards to researching into Slipspace anomalies to try and determine what happened to you."

_The cover-up story Section II released indicates a defect in Slipspa_ce. Hallas was quick to act. He would not let his parents waste their time and funds. Hallas also had a proposition for his parents. "Mom, Dad, are you instigating a research project in Slipspace anomalies?"

They both frowned. Helen was the one to speak. "How did you know that?"

"I have a military-grade AI to assist me in settling back down." Hallas took a deep breath, tapping his fingers against the long table he leaned on. "I'm not done with the UNSC's interrogations. Anyway—I ask you to stop."

"Tell them what_ actually_ happened," Black-Box said. "Just the Slipspace subjects. And for the love of god, put emphasis on making sure they don't go disseminating the words."

"Hallas?" Levie toyed his lower lip with his fingers, studying his son with as much intensity that he put into all his pet projects and research. Hallas had seen the expression before. It was not an expression he found appropriate for his father when directed at his son.

"Okay, guys." Hallas pushed off the table, rubbing his temples as they tightened, forming ridges. Hallas ran his fingers through the crevices of the hills. "The story about the Slipspace anomaly the_ Kryptonite_ stumbled upon is a cover-up."

Hallas' parents widened their eyes, leaning forward in their chairs. They were suspicious of how far their son was in with the Office of Naval Intelligence's pool of secrets, lies, truths concealed from the light, and deadly drives.

"What happened is much more . . ._ alien_. In which an alien artifact—not belonging to the Covenant—was taken aboard our ship for me to study. This artifact caused some . . . Some type of_ paradox_ to happen. So, the story of an anomaly sending us through time is valid, but it's not natural. Therefore, trying to look for what caused it will give you_ no_ rewards to reap."

"What else happened?" Helen asked, quickly adding, "I know_ more_ happened, Hallas. Where did you find the artifact? What were you_ doing_ in Slipspace when you were stationed in the Viverz System?"

"I can't say," Hallas said, tone convicted on its seriousness. "And I can't stress enough that what I said here_ can't_ leave this room. For the sake of all of us, just forget about it, okay? I'm back, and I'm not leaving again—"

"We get the point." Levie sighed. He mimicked Hallas' earlier gesture of rubbing his temples and feeling the crevice between the ridges. "But please tell me that no one else will be hurt by this . . ._ artifact_."

"The Monarch's in capable hands," Black-Box said. "It's au fond in a written agreement not to allow the Monarch into Slipspace again until the Transcendor is dismantled."

"My AI says that the artifact's in the progress of being destroyed," Hallas said, watching his father's growing doubt. Addressing his father's uncertainty, Hallas said, "And it's not a lie, dad. With modern Slipspace technology, the artifact's obsolete."

Levie waved his hands conclusively. "I'll take your word for it. I would be a terrible father if I didn't trust my own son." Levie returned to studying his son. He detected further discussion from Hallas. He was quick to raise the words from the tomb of Hallas' mind. "Something else is on your mind. What is it?"

_The worst that can happen out of this proposition is that they refuse._ Hallas listened attentively to his self-confidence—it had assisted him through many situations that Hallas found disordered to his typical environmental pleasance. "Have you heard of EDEN?"

"Honey, we follow anything revolving around the_ Kryptonite_ and her crew like a bottle being spun by a group of horny teens," Helen said. She rotated in her chair and tapped her husband on the head when he acknowledged her joke with a chuckle. "So, yes—we know what EDEN is. Why?"

"Can you fund it?"

"Yes," Levie and Helen said together immediately. Levie was the one to clarify their quick response. "We were already considering becoming an investor before you even asked. We were a major player in the repairs of Earth's substructure and cities. You remember the story I told you? Of when my grandparents were having financial trouble?"

Hallas nodded._ A significant story. It's that same story that convinced me that the two of you would accept. _

"Well," Levie continued, licking his lips to clear away the sticky residue caused by the dry air of the mansion, "it's a story that has always been my inspiration. It's time we gave back. And we have_ more_ than enough reserved funding to do so."

"I've already evaluated a major profit return," Helen added. "It won't necessarily be just a_ 'donation_', as much as we would accept it if we_ were_ donating. And the PR attention would only make us more prominent in the educational system; a_ lot_ of people would end up coming to us."

Hallas checked his watch. "People ask me what my parents are like all the time when I mention who they are. And I just say that they are all that's good in the world." Hallas looked back to his parents, teary-eyed. He sniffed, saying, "Sorry. If you don't mind, I would like to head off to my room and sort some things out before I begin crying and we're stuck here hugging each other for the next hour."

"Of course." Helen pushed out of her seat and walked to the open doorway behind her son. She waited for him to follow her.

"I'll see you later . . . At dinner," Levie said, twitching his eyes from Hallas to Helen, telling his son to leave. Hallas was not adamant about abruptly leaving his family when so much still remained for topic. But he would converse with them during dinner. He would raise old inquiries and reform the relationship they had.

Hallas smiled, flexing his fingers at his father in a departing gesture before turning and following his mother from the massive dining room.

The dining room reminded Hallas of old-style mansions from North America and England. Unlike the mansions from Western and European countries, the Day mansion was semi-Asian in design. Blinds replaced curtains. Tapestries were almost a non-existent accessory, along with the supply of rugs and paintings.

Aside from the atrium, the rest of the mansion's floor was made up of polished wood. The mansion's dining furnishings blended seamlessly with the floor boards. The single chandelier hanging from the high ceiling of the room cast a faint light across the expansive area, reflecting from surface to surface and giving the visual impression that a fire was operating the illumination.

Helen led her son to his bedroom. Hallas' luggage and possessions were sent in advance of his arrival; they were already available for him to unpack. The furnishing of the room was as it always had been, giving Hallas a reason to instantly go to work in arranging his possessions, sorting his books out, folding his clothes.

Each book was arranged so the newer books were placed after the older books. Hallas found the sorting amusing for his personality's defining elements. Hallas was autistic and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Hallas was ordered. Everything else needed to be ordered. Progress was critical. Formality in the correct situations was a prime demand of his mind. He found his sister's husband, Okeme, shaking hands instead of bowing to be disorderly. Hallas only then looked back and considered it to be an imperfection in his brother-in-law.

Clothes were folded and placed neatly atop each other or hung to align a consecutive dimension along the hanging bar in his cupboard. Shirts were placed on top of each other and stretched to be nearly square in diameter. Hallas' favorite shirts were placed atop his least used shirts. Similar actions were used with Hallas' drawers and trousers.

Hallas unpacked his laptop onto his desk. He leaned over the device and moved it until it was straight, smiling and pulling back before nodding, satisfied. He would have to reinstall several programs back onto the device—it was different from the one he originally used when living at his family's mansion.

Hallas spent two hours shifting about his room, occupying his time with entertaining himself in an overindulgence of mental stimulation. Exhausted, Hallas collapsed onto his bed. He would soon have a shower and dress for the dinner—his room was an en suite. All of Hallas' needs were supplied except his needs for nourishment. Hallas never tried to be by himself for long; the en suite addition to his room was still necessary as the main bathrooms were privileged commissions in service to the household attendants. Hallas was also more comfortable bathing with Hurume when it was in his own space.

Hallas drifted to sleep. The slumber was forced by his flight, his preparations, his obsession over his room, his gratitude to be where he was when so many were not.

Dreams were where memories and imagination entangled and frolicked around without care. Hallas dreamed of the_ Kryptonite_ and the near two weeks it had to survive without aid, without caution, guided only by the word of two ancient alien machines. And yet, tragedy always surprised the crew of the prejudicial ship.

The dreams were soon replaced. It took a lighter turn on its own initiative.

Hurume was sitting next to Hallas' laying form, stroking his cheek. The dream was reality visualizing a fantasy to speak to Hallas. The touch was reminiscent of Hurume's touch. The mind created Hurume in her young, joyful form and acted out how the possibilities would allow her to stroke his face if she were in fact doing so—which she was.

Hallas awoke. Sitting next to him was Hurume. She was much older than she was when Hallas last saw her eight years ago. She was still beautiful. She was stroking Hallas' cheek, circling her thumb around the corner of his lid to tease his eye to open. The sight of her made Hallas' sit up next to her, glaring into the wet loop of color in her eyes. He was unsure of how to proceed and uncertain about how she was there. Plausibly, the two's parents allowed Hurume to come up alone rather than Hallas' mother or father awakening him and informing him of the Mitsukawas' arrival. Now Hallas would have time in solitude with Hurume before the dinner.

Hallas did not know how to proceed. He wanted to hug Hurume, kiss her, and allow an instinctual Human desire to take control. She was tearing up, but that did not mean she still had a sexual attraction towards Hallas. It did mean that hugging her was not as much a bold move as Hallas initially thought. Inhaling deeply, Hallas leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Hurume. He pulled her in for a tight embrace as she ultimately gave into a boiling, screaming emotional tide, and began crying.

"I'm so sorry," Hallas said in a cracking, gagging tone, exercising his fluent Japanese to its heightened lengths. "I'm_ so, so, so_ sorry for the pain I caused you for_ even_ abandoning you to begin with."

Hurume pulled back, sniffing, softening her eyes and looking into Hallas' with an endearing devotion. Tears trailed down her cheeks, leaving wet steps in their wake and glistening as they dropped from her face to her shirt. "A good man admits his faults even if they are not so. A good man is a good man through commitment to make things right." She smiled and looked Hallas up and down, starting from his eyes and descending to his crotch before returning. "If you want, you can make it up to me. But . . ." She shied her eyes away. She was ashamed of her body. "Things change over time."

"Not_ this_." Hallas cloaked his hands in Hurume's and held them against her chest, feeling her heartbeat vibrate through the hands and feeling the warmth of her breasts. He leaned his head forward, letting his forehead softly touch hers. Hallas slanted his head, making his eyes look directly into hers.

Black-Box cleared his throat. "I'll take my leave. Disconnecting. Have fun, Doctor. You deserved it."

Hurume smiled; she was close enough to hear Black-Box speak. That alone did not match her traits and skills. Hallas was prone to finding the holes and gaps in lines and filling them up or bringing the line down in its entirety. "Do you understand English, now?" Hallas asked, inclining his head and playfully blinking his eyes at those of the one he loved.

"Just a little, Hallas-kun." Hurume tilted her neck so her head was inverted in angle to Hallas'. She lunged, entangling her lips with his and almost immediately entering a pattern of foreplay and passion. A deep, fervent passion that soon changed to a fervent desire for intercourse.

An ancient, primitive demand for the most intimate connection Humans could form took control of Hallas. Hurume's lips bit at Hallas', her tongue swirling around his, her teeth dragging against his tongue. The foreplay did not last long. Hallas slipped his hand up Hurume's shirt. He searched for the bra that he successively glided his hand under, finding the nipples tipping her breasts.

_No more dreaming. No more imagining this moment like it was an eternity away. I'm finally here_. Hallas chuckled, escaping the hold of Hurume's lips to catch his breath. He quickly plunged back in, slaying a monster tasked by his manhood that prepared to enter the fray itself. Hurume shuffled over and pushed Hallas back, allowing him the relaxing comfort. She proceeded to climb atop him and rub her crotch against his growing arousal.

That was when Black-Box ruined everything.

"Doctor, sorry to interrupt."

Hallas pulled his head away from Hurume, groaning and steadying Hurume to sit next to him. Her long black hair flailed as she hooked her head back around to stare off into the distance. She was ashamed at the prospect of Black-Box having watched the two.

"BB, you can't do this." Hallas' voice rose, no longer contained by his tolerance for inconvenience lacking decency towards him. "You_ can't_ do this! Just leave me alone—let me be with the person I_ love_ and my_ family_!"

"I would if I could," Black-Box said. "But a situation has found its way to the top of_ all_ our binding obligations to personal life. I know this timing is almost Hollywood bad, but this is important. Doctor Campbell Joyce is missing—disappeared. No trace. Sydney's in lock-down and Captain Jsarez is pointing fingers at anyone and everyone."

_The woman he assaulted—how friendly was she with people who could undermine authorities and ONI themselves?_

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><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

Damn you, 343i!

Exposition is tacky. But it can masterfully be done with pacing rather than throwing it all on someone. Right now, I'm going for the latter path. I'm just going to vent my anger.

Some of you may follow Cannon Fodder, weekly blogs done by a 343i employee. In a recent article, there was a fan question and answer segment. A fan asked the fate of Luro 'Taralumee. 343i explained that Luro was_ alive_, contradicting my previous writings that implied that Luro was executed. I can retcon this to make his fate ambiguous—I'm already doing so—but 343i have indicated a possible return, meaning the likely return of Thel 'Lodamee into the_ official_ Haloverse.

I've got a few ideas on how to handle Thel 'Lodam if 343i bring him back. It's gonna be a copout, but it may work. May not. My other issues involve my potential misrepresentation of Vadam Keep. I'll make future mentions ambiguous. I can retcon the description if the need arrives. Additionally, 343i better not introduce a Spartan-II with the tag of 098. There's also the risk of a particular character I'm bringing over from the canon having a different fate than what I'm giving him. I have counters for this.

I managed to work up a plan to save myself from "Installation 06" which ties in nicely with a new plot thread I've been working on. I'm also concerned about 343i exploring Sheila-065 a bit more. It'll be easily retconned; she only appears in the beginning "flashbacks" of specific chapters. I can remove those. I might do so.

Please review if you feel so inclined. Just a few words are all I'm asking. I would sincerely appreciate more. No judgment goes out to those who don't review. I don't always comment on YouTube videos. It's just a request.

Thanks go to the reviewers of the previous chapter:** Fleightfire**,** Starart132**,** Trusne**,** Joat the Goat**, and** The Constitutionalist**. You guys are fabulous!

This chapter was proofread by **Tmachgaming **and **Joat the Goat**. You guys are also fabulous! And I'm never using the word "fabulous" again; I sound too much like my little brother, who may or may not have a fetish for unicorns and all things fluffy. He's fifteen, by the way, so I think it's something cliché . . .


	61. Terminal Decisions

**(-(-(—****[]Campbell Joyce[]****—)-)-)**

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><p>The reasons to why the Office of Naval Intelligence had abducted me accumulated and forced into place several plausible arguments. Undoubtedly, the turning spokes of a clock, ticking from minute to minute and hour to hour, eventually crushed my theories. Development of the situation led from one thing to another, and began to open up the doors to a non-explicit number of potentials for the final aggregation of chances, theory correctness and the final count-down to having an explanation handed to me on a theoretical silver platter.<p>

The spokes moved gradually. The countdown began when I was summoned to the Army Reserve's commissioned officer complex to speak with the base executive. I knew there was no obscurity to there being something more to be discoursed when the overruling ground to my summon was to discuss my public relations—that was a task for ONI's Section II. What did a UNSC officer on a clean paysheet have to do with my interaction with the press?

I foresaw the notion a great deal off from finalizing my theories, indeed. I casually walked into the antechamber of the complex's intramural estate. It was at off-duty hours, and it was plain to see that no one had been assigned to reception postures. I considered that I was to be received by the executive himself—but the previous speculation surrounding an ambushing of a darker, denser and thicker presence of authority pushed aside my attempts to reaffirm my safety.

ONI agents rushed into the antechamber and apprehended me. Coating me with a metaphorical black ink, they harnessed the secure passages of the base and escorted me to HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. A Prowler, burnished in a new coating of chrome metal plating and experimental scientific artistry, awaited in a hanger. I was pulled aside, tugged at, weaved into new states of disarray as I was dragged into the Prowler like a prisoner of war. I was pulled into the bowels of the vessel, seeing technological implementation on the grades of the UNSC_ Infinity_.

With two suits at my side, I was escorted into a single interrogation room. A slab reached up from the ground, producing itself into a finely polished table. Three seats rested on the side diametric to the entrance of the room; a single chair was on the opposing side. I was seated on the single stool and told to wait, chided for my questions with gazes that wished anguish. I stubbornly realized that the crew hated me through some indirect tragedy I bestowed upon them with extra prejudice.

Fifteen minutes later, the door split into two diverting parts that sunk into the frameworks of the entryway, being enveloped in the steaming tears of the entrance's exhaust venting that screamed with the coordination of the pressure seals.

A Spartan walked in, unarmed but for the red and green shell he was tailored in. I had seen the Spartan before on a recap broadcast of him protecting Red Jsarez from a terrorist organization attacking Sydney's transorbital spaceport.

The two mercenary contractors, Tobias O'Reilly and Warren Fisher, were also no plague of confusion to my mind—I had seen them before. They carried themselves in an exemplary ONI manner, holding their shoulders back and jutting their heads like a rooster commanding his peers.

Warren was a hulking man, broad shouldered and taller than the average male could be with their sum of genetic composition. His face was hard, cold and shaved with his brown, graying hair cut to a crop that was receding with the curse that was age.

Tobias had a much more calming, younger face accompanied by a slim body with a muscular build—but nothing supersaturated his natural structure. His face was reasonably soft—perfect with his age—but was quickly developing a maturity only gained through battle. His auburn hair was finely lit by the room's light, and he had a meager stubble striking over his lips.

All three of them spotted their respective seats and dominated them with the cushioning of their posteriors. Tobias and Warren sat next to each other; the Spartan took to the right of Reilly. Once comfortable, the Spartan removed his helmet and set it gently on the table, revealing a leveled face with hair as green as the buoyant stripes rendering his armor.

Warren began with an thorough study of me, as though I was the instigator of all his troubles. "Doctor, I'm Lieutenant Warren Fisher. This is my associate, Lieutenant Tobias O'Reilly." Warren leaned his hand in Tobias' direction with his words. "That you already know." Warren cocked his eyes over to the Spartan, sharing with him a slight gleam of respect. "However, you don't know Spartan Derek Johns."

"Not by name," I said, matching Warren's nonchalant tone, trying to play the game with the settings they were all familiar with. "But from what I saw, he's got the makings of a friend. Anyone who helps Sierra-098 is a friend of mine."

Derek laughed at an irony I had yet to see. Spartans were never vague, and Derek collapsed his mass around the point. "Doctor, I wanted to tranquilize you to make this whole kidnapping easier. Now, am I still a friend?"

"It wasn't personal over rational?" I folded my hands, thankful I was not cuffed and I had a slight taste of freedom, even if it was bitter and sour and left much to be desired.

"No."

"Then I don't have any quarrel with you." I looked to Warren, then to Tobias before reverting back to facing Derek, eyes cutting up his external stoicism. "I take it I'm here because_ you_ need_ my_ help. Proper 26th-century courtesies hold people up to asking before doing."

"Captain Jsarez was why we didn't ask," Warren said, lazy-eyed and seemingly bored, not giving a proper display of his true intellect that radiated from his well-groomed body.

I ignored his demeanor and ventured onward, pioneering the frontier before me and not afraid of anyone, even if I should have been cautious. "Please clarify."

Warren leaned forward on the edge of the slabbed table, face darkening. "Captain Jsarez would forcefully hold you down over letting you assist ONI. The plan was for her not to find out that your expertise was enlisted by the Office of Naval Intelligence."

I scoffed, my amusement diverted to ONI's mishap. The lapse also captivated my annoyance. "Captain Jsarez will have a few decent ideas on who took me. And when she's exhausted them of answers, she'll begin suspecting ONI. This is all if she doesn't already suspect you." My face grew a sharp grin, whirling it among other dread-defying expressions into a tornado of spite, combining irony and nerve together. "I expected more from Osman."

"There_ is_ more," Tobias wittingly laughed, controlling the releases of his humor with delays lasting a second each—_ha, ha, ha_, was what I heard. Chewing on his tongue and swallowing his sarcasm, he added, "It wasn't just Captain Jsarez we had to worry 'bout; there was also the intensifying liability of your refusal—which was not viable."

"What could_ I_ possibly assist you with that you had to forcibly kidnap and forcibly detain me?" I asked, rounding up the possibilities but finding nothing conclusive over some lesser potentials.

Warren straightened in his seat. He was already aligned to perfection; he was making a redundant point. "Lieutenant David Larson."

That name, advanced by a rank, caused me to heave, gasp for the air escaping with the ripe laughs that rebound from Tobias to Warren to Derek, making them either cock their heads or overlap their arms in front of their chest, sometimes both. Finally deciding to break the truth to them, I applied a deliberate level of compelling pain and caught my breath before saying, "This is just . . . You didn't have to_ kidnap me_! You had the ball to_ begin with_. But you didn't get my attention before throwing it."

Tobias chuckled relentlessly. Derek was also humored, but coincided his superficial expression with Warren, who held on tight to his frigid, cunning face that roiled me, trimmed away my hope of corroding his stone pillars and bringing him down. Warren saw no game here. He said with a pitch that matched his face, "I hope your ears can persuade your mouth to lock up tight. Doctor, I need a better level of focus than what I'm getting."

I caught my breath and broke it in like a wild horse, calming and soothing it with gentle strokes and gentler words to raise the animal above its growing distress that sought to crush it. "Sorry, I'm not usually one to tamper with the patience of others. Yeah—go ahead. Apologies. . . ." It hit me then that I stepped too far. Backtracking, I found where I should be. It was not where I wanted to be, but I was required to address it. I started panicking. "David? Is he all right?_ Joseph—_"

"—Lieutenants Lilly Gantant and Joseph Gamble were executed by the Diverted," Warren cut me off, the knife going through more than my words alone. "The rest of the_ Isigrass_' crew was also eliminated. Our AI, Izen, was pulled apart one string of code after another. Now the_ Isigrass_ is currently on Sanghelios, and the Diverted are in the Arbiter's company, not far off being shepherded into celebrity status. The Monarch was temporarily under containment by Human and Elite forces, but it vanished under similar circumstances of that of T'Rakas and the Monitor. As for David Larson?" Warren leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs and wiping his finger along the table, following his hand's sway with his diamond eyes. "He's alive. . . . We want him back."

"From how he left you, he seems pretty adamant in_ not_ returning to the fold," I said, crossing my arms and searching the room. I did not know what I was looking for. I just knew that I was not going to assist Unit Blackbird. "Isn't he expendable?_ Isn't that what was behind his entire development and internal design decisions?_" My voice was growing too close to a whisper; I raised it, accenting my anger. "Just replace him!" I glanced at Derek. "You seemed happy to do that with the Spartans!"

Warren's features were acute, sharp. But briefly, anger sparked across his face like lightning; he was not ONI, and he did not want to be detected as ONI by anyone. "What can be replaced_ will_ be replaced." Warren bit his lip, almost drawing blood. "Larson can still be obtained and reissued in a working operation integrity stipulation. Hence, he will not be let go of. ONI doesn't let go of assets so casually. Are you aware of how much has been invested in the search for the Master Chief?"

"That's a fine ingestion I've been given." I sighed, stretching my arms over the table and bolting my fingers over the surface, tapping them off. "I'm not going to help you. Larson's my friend, even if that relationship is one-way."

Warren got out of his seat. By instinct, I returned my arms to my side and kept an eye on Tobias, who reached for his partner's arm. The reach was knocked away by Warren's hand and Derek sat falteringly, watching that hand pull out the magnum in the holster below it. In hand with a magnum, Warren moved over to my side and ironed the pistol against my temples.

"_Shit! Fisher!"_ Tobias lunged from his seat. His haste was caught by the haste of Derek, who held Tobias back, wrapping his arms around Tobias' shoulders. Derek was not doing this by choice, as was unmistakable with his doleful glances and the controlled removal of his eyes from my peripheral vision.

Warren dug the magnum's muzzle deeper into my temple, twisting the sidearm and toying with my composure. When a bead of sweat dripping from my brow was spotted by his prying eyes, he said with a cold, locked voice, "If you do not assist us, you'll be of no use and immediately disposed of. Tell me, how do we get to Larson? How do we make him hand himself over? You have ten seconds."

Tobias knew his partner was not shearing me of my fortifications. I was aware that ONI was sincere; what use did a discredited physician have in society that he should be spared if he refused to cooperate with ONI? Derek looked at me with a pair of subdued eyes.

"There's an Unggoy." The words escaped my mouth. I could not stop the following brutal advice that struck me deep and pieced my moral compassion. "Its name is Yoplap. David adores the creature. Take it prisoner, threaten its life, and David will roll over."

Warren removed his magnum and holstered it, still wielding his brawny, still face. He backed away, saying only, "Very good," before departing the room, leaving Derek, Tobias and me baffled and frightened to our cores.

Fear was confounding. When stirred, one forcefully spread that which stirred another's phobia. I realized that I had just "sold out" David and Yoplap to ONI. I was speculative as to why ONI did not already know of Yoplap and David's relationship through Red's debriefing, followed by mine and Hallas Day's. Maybe they wanted to assert my loyalty, I thought. A test. Needless to be clarified was the unquestioning danger I was in not only from ONI, but from Larson himself.

I had nothing left to live for._ So why the hell did I sell Larson and that Unggoy out?!_ The past was the past—as was adamantly set in stone. Not even Slipspace could turn back the clock's spokes. What was done could not be converted over to what was not done. I was the quintessential coward.

I saw my cowardice reflected in the unfavorable eyes of Derek, who said nothing as Tobias led me from the room to my quarters. Unsurprisingly, those quarters were a cell, a compartment, concealed to those wandering the extramural space of the corridors. The cell's implementation attested to the Prowler being tailored for operations not conventional for ONI's compliment of traditional processes that never seemed to decay with time.

The cell was built up with common demands fitted for its visitors. A bed was a slab in the corner, clear of obstructing any of the room's furniture. A single chair was settled near a slabbed table in the middle of the cell. I also had compliments gift-wrapped to me; the cell was an en suite. An illusion of privacy was consolatory in some ways when complicated needs and wants became a single element.

The look Tobias left me with was intertwined with rue and something else that he wanted to elaborate on, but could not. All that was obvious was the clear contraction of facts into the funneled web that linked Tobias and Derek together; both were being forced into this. Tobias by Warren. Derek by something else that limited his capabilities to self-doctrine. I wished neither harm, but my wishes would not tread on David's concerns. I feared David had little moral left in his tanks; if he allowed or participated in the murder of the_ Isigrass'_ crew, there was no end to the negatives he reeked of.

A sensation I had familiarized myself with on multiple occasions began to set into my transmitter of knowledge and feelings. We were in slipspace, on a trajectory to Sanghelios, no doubt. The finishing goal of the star trek was not to seize David; Human forces planetside and Elite peacekeepers could detain David to the holding perimeters of the primary embassies. This was a mission for 'Lodam's head. I was about to be pushed off the sidelines and into a showdown. No one would open up the gates and let me back in.

Hours passed. A day passed. I slept and ate what was given to me on a plastic plate. I never left my cell and was given the decency of privacy in the bathroom. It was the 23rd of September when the Prowler dropped out of slipspace and into the Urs System.

Captain Courtney Jsarez would be aware that ONI had apprehended me. She would be appealing to Black-Box for a meeting with Admiral Serin Osman. I already picked up on Courtney's intentions behind EDEN with slight nods in the right direction. If Osman did not release me, more fuel would be tossed into that fire. I wanted revenge as well. No one knew as many people of the UNSC_ Kryptonite's_ crew as intimately as I did. Over a hundred of the crew were friends of mine. A bare minimum of that number had survived. I was not impressed by the causes behind the figures being so low. And ONI denied me the right to bid farewell to my friends at the Tribute; the sins they committed were stacking up like pallets in a warehouse, soon to fall over and crush the one who stacked a single vertical row so high.

I could not tell when the ship was breaching the red atmosphere of Sanghelios. We were going to Arbiter Thel 'Vadam's Keep—that much was certain. David regularly conveyed Sangheilian cultural information during sessions, or just chance encounters that led to the more rare chance conversation. I was content with what I heard as long as David did not discuss anything even remote to the Unggoy.

Vadam Keep was embedded in the slanting face of "Mount Kolaar", and was the hub of a booming economic and political empire, with the Arbiter trying to consolidate the Sangheili, but failing to the espionage and silent impediment of ONI. The supercarrier that attacked the UNSC_ Kryptonite_ would not have existed if ONI did not impose on the Arbiter's attempts for Sangheilian reunification. Thel 'Lodam likely knew all of this dangerous information. Yet, judging from the lack of the Prowler being attacked, 'Lodam had not unveiled this information to the Arbiter. Yet.

I thought about trying to reach the Arbiter—or any Elite—and disclose ONI's transgressions if Thel and his troupe were assassinated. It would put Courtney's EDEN plans in jeopardy and risk a Human-Sangheilian war. I put the thought aside. Bait for time.

There was a hint to the Prowler's dockage when there was a sudden shake—and then nothing. I never had my interpretation of the motions confirmed; no one came for me. I deduced that I would be looked to for fixing on David's phases of thought if the currently active plan Blackbird incorporated into their operation failed. I feared that ONI would execute me when confiding in me was no longer viable. ONI would not release back into society an unavailing asset with confidential information swimming in his head.

There was nothing to do but think retrospectively. Was there anything I could change with my son's death? Or my happening to be in a situation I could not surmount with confidence?

I was a psychiatrist before my son died—or an aspiring one; I could not pin-point which was truer. My son died and I suffered through the aftermath with the symptoms that I wanted to eventually help people overwhelm. Dreams of my son's death—his brutal murder—always followed me like some stray dog, never leaving me with a reprieve, nibbling at my ankles, never contradicting its primary mission to impose on me.

My personal experience made me a virtuoso psychiatrist. ONI liked skill. They recruited me. The idea of being the consultant for overcoming problems gave me a desire to commit myself to soldiers and arch around the lane of uncertainty and form change. For a long time, I_ did_ create change. Then Installation 06 happened.

I briefly collected individual thoughts of my wife, Abigail. She was continually abroad in the outer colonies. Like my son, she also fell to the Covenant. I was left to raise my son by myself with little support. Then my son died. It was a thought I wanted to wash from my mind even if I had to pull every lobe apart and disembarrass it through a cult ritual.

The thoughts of all I had lost sent me into depression, a gradient feather beginning transparent, becoming redder. There was hatred, bitter-sweet tears, hunger for answers to why. Why me? Of all people meriting pain—Osman, Ivan Roras, the Prophet of Pity, Margaret Parangosky, Catherine Halsey—why was I at the top of the list?

The anxiety of giving life to these questions made me aware of a flourishing tiredness. I slept; the sleep washed over me like a relieving shower. It began with my eyes locking down harder and harder until I could not open them. Next came my body opening up to a nonfunctional essence.

With sleep came dreams with an onerous dependence on forcing the anguish of my loved ones' pain onto me. I saw my son's death replayed a million times in an instance. I pictured whatever cruel fate my wife endured. The quantity towards the chance of my wife having died instantly in a flood of radiation emission and heated plasma was not rational for the pain, who preferred a more violent, false take on the calamity. Brutes, Jackals, Grunts—it was another Draco III.

Something swatted these images away. What came next was not a dream. A neurological link was established through invoking a means to fabricate realities. With what I knew of the universe, everything was atoms, tiny dots that pulled the weight of existence together. There were only few that could control atoms.

I was surrounded by white. I was in the atrium of a structure. The vastness of the atrium saw shifting walls and rectangular shafted columns floating atop pylons of gravity. The surfaces were engraved with geometrical lines, symbols and fashionable inscriptions, a trademark of Forerunner architecture.

"Fleighted-Fire."

The Forerunner, oddly named after the Monitor of Installation 06, turned to the voice, spying a Forerunner towering over him with stunning efficiency in looking down on subjects of his flaming gaze.

"Knead the counterparts to gods," Fleighted Fire said, speaking English, crossing his arms and casting his view over the atrium that saw green falling from the white sky that breached the atrium's open dome. "The Flood are here. They move with no content in slaking their hunger with us. Evacuation procedures are to be followed through, Unending, and I will see that you suffer exile to the thickest parts of the Burn if you fail; failure is worst than betrayal as you are looked upon with reverence and esteem. Would you let our ecumene fall?"

"I will not fail again." Unending placed a hand over his chest and strode off, taking Sentinels and strange, bipedal and small quadrupedal synthetics with him.

Fleighted-Fire turned.

In dreams, actual emotional reactions cause abrupt escapes; waking up is the phenomenon of seeing something that the mind demands the embodiment of its persona to react to. This "dream" had me in a hold. What I saw would not awaken me.

The creature I saw was massive, robust in diameter. It had six legs hunched up to its body as if it were a dead arachnid. Two bulky legs supported it up. Its head was flat, broad, and sprung straight from its trunk; there was no neck. Jeweled eyes stippled the bridges of its head. Its mouth was a vertical slit in the center of its flat face, numerous scissor-like teeth clattering, quickly hidden beneath the beast's articular skin. Most disturbing of all was the tail protruding from rearward of its head, a spike tipping the extremity of the tail.

Fleighted-Fire looked upon the Precursor like he had seen it thousands of times before and was unfazed by the withered skin and other appeals to a nightmare.

"They come for you. They come for us all." Fleighted-Fire spread his arms and gestured to the surrounding atrium. Flood spores specked the white ground, turning it green; the spores grew bigger as the shower turned into a storm. Fleighted-Fire ceased his gesture and snapped his sharp eyes to the Precursor. "Brother against brother—son against father. Your plan is the only thing keeping me from_ gutting_ you myself. As the Nexus of all things respecting a 'second chance', relinquish the strategy of your plan and allow me to judge it."

"We are gods," the Precursor said, voice deeply immutable and unsentimental to the surrounding supersonic waves trying to consume his thriving echo. "Gods control fate. But perpetual is the creations desire to control their own fate."

"A story I already know." Fleighted-Fire rubbed his skull with his massive hands, wrapping his fingers around his head and holding it as if some inner anguish was trying to break out. "_Keep_ to the facts!"

"_You_ will die._ You_ will be born-again into two. Machine._ Geas_."

"_'Geas'?"_ Fleighted-Fire scrutinized the Precursor dangerously, mulling over whether to destroy the creature or listen to it. He selected the latter option. " Both fates demand an explanation. The former is safe to be explained at a later date—but I will kill you_ now_ if the latter fate is not elaborated on immediately. Time will hold the Flood from us until I get the answers I seek."

"You will become the voice of a Human line. You will awake at the turn of tides one hundred thousand cycles pass. There will be a snake. You are to save Adam and Eve."

I awoke. My head shook in pain. If some_thing_ wanted me to hear a message, it needed to roughen its resolve Or maybe it did not have to try harder. If the message it transmitted to me was for me to know that Fleighted Fire was once a Forerunner that was somehow turned into a Monitor, and thatFleighted Fire was affiliated with a Precursor, the message was taken into account and nurtured. If the message was to know what a Precursor was, then the visualization, framed and laminated, would never abandon me.

There was always a message beyond what was understandable to the eyes. Some messages spoke to an audience beyond the recipient's eyes. Some messages were meant for the future when evidence was sought. The questions I had were deepened in ice. Time would melt the ice away.

I sat up on my bed, surveying the room, yawning, feeding myself with air and opening up the day. I presumed it was day; there were no time-representation devices in allowance to my unsatisfactory style of given living. It was up to my analyzing abilities and propensities to process motions.

By chance, my surveying eyes fell on the door at the exact moment of its shift, hiss and retraction into the walls; it split into two and pulled back to allow a man garbed in a Naval Intelligence uniform to enter my cell. His arms were bent behind his back and his head bobbed to which direction he looked in his process of coordinating efforts in his cerebrum, and detaining me with gestures of disheartenment.

The man had a rustle of white hair on his tall head. He looked at me, blue eyes darting over me, undressing me and redressing me, extracting an illumination of knowledge from me without discretion. He led two more officers into the cell. Glancing around the room, the white-haired agent pulled my seat out and claimed it as his own, using his legs to spin it around so he was facing me. His companions were like guard dogs and stopped aside their superior's chair, eyes projecting transparent restraints. But I was in my domain; I had no reason to be intimidated. Providing the facts of my comfort to the trio through emitting emotions would reap the prosperous rewards of domination, an influx of confidence, and self-respect.

"I'm just coming across convenient people," the ONI agent said, suppressing a cockle of half-true laughs. He ran his hand along the swollen, bulging purple tissue by his right, crystal-sharp eye. "Finally, compliments of my hard work! I'm just being given gift after gift. It's_ early_ Christmas!"

I grit my teeth. "Who are you?" I asked, spittle spraying from my clenched fangs. I was tired, scared, blanketed by ire. The agent's obscure tip-toeing around a point that should be directly shot for was not in my best interest. But the white-haired officer had no control over his compulsive delights.

"You seem a bit angry," the ONI agent shapelessly noted, producing a mental textbook and writing down my facts.

"Do I look like I could be anything_ but_ happy?" I asked, teeth no longer forming a wall in my mouth.

"I guess not. Well . . ." The white-haired man shrugged, clueless. "I'm not an expert in finding the defining characteristics of 'happy'; I see a lot of people_ not_ happy. And for me, you're just breathing rainbows."

We were approaching a junction. I needed to keep the agent on topic; he seemed too invested in playing a carefully crafted drama of witty, perverse mock-ups. "My question?"

"Well, I like to be vague; I also like exposition, for all that matters. So, I'll reveal who I am slowly, like spreading butter over some crisp, golden toast." The man closed his eyes and licked his pale lips. "This stupid ship has no supply of_ butter_." The man returned to his senses, eyes wrapping bubble-wrap around me, popping a single bubble at a time. "Or the ship_ did_ have butter, but they gave it all to you."

"No. If they did, I wouldn't have eaten anything."

The man gave me a look as if I had just killed his pet kitten. "You don't like_ butter_? How can you not like_ butter_?! Are you fucking_ insane_?! Butter's in everything!"

"I don't eat_ everything_."

"What_ do_ you eat?"

"Processed food. Canned stuff."

The man was short of sniggering like some stuff-nosed lord from England. He settled with an elegant chuckle. I was still not setting myself down, but regardless, I listened to him; I had no choice but to hear this lunatic's rambling about butter. "Why the hell do you eat food basically_ labeled_ with industry dangers. The amount of stuff they put into processed food won't do you such good as preserve your body, if that's your aim with not eating butter."

"No. No, the reason I eat processed food is because of the basis being easily savored, conserved." I slithered my legs like two pythons over the edge of my bed, sitting up and treating my bed like a chair. "In this age of digital coverage via Waypoint and heavy reliance on reality TV to make people forget about the_ real_ reality, the basic, fundamental needs of Humanity are squandered for humor._ Food_ is the pinnacle need wasted on entertainment, with shows paying homage to Hell's Kitchen—yeah, I'm_ vintage_."

"And people are starving in the outer colonies," the man concluded, nodding his head, understanding but not agreeing—I could see the rolling orbs in his face cock away sharply, pulling all his disagreement with them.

"Correct. Words out of my mouth make people laugh. We don't need to use blue-chip resources to entertain ourselves. Better yet, let people know the_ damn truth_; lies to control the equanimity of the population and to stimulate the nostalgic sense of people to bring them back to a time of peace will_ not_ last as there's always leaks with ONI. Look at that attack on the port!" I pointed off into the distance, implying that the attack on the port was being displayed at the end of my index digit. "That Elite didn't find out about the bodies' transfer itself!"

"We're aware of this, doctor. Anyway, I feel I've gotten off track with the whole butter dilemma."

I went against the doctrine of my mind—if not religious, logical—on verbalizing my complete resentment of his denial of referencing his understatement. The agent before me appeared authentic in his withholding of information in order to express his comedic side. Opposite was the prospect of ONI employing maniacs. Old news, new day. Nothing changed with Osman.

One of the ONI officers left the room, leaving a trail of ambiguity. "Yes. I would very much like my question of who you are answered, because right now, in my mind, you're ONI." I flung my fingers to reach out, tapping them as I counted down what else I thought he was. "Then an oddball. Then a mental defective. Possibly a comedian. Emphatically not lactose intolerant."

"I hate cheese, though."

I cocked my head, somehow feeling like my following words were a nod in some unclear direction, only picked up upon by a certain level of people who indulge in variety. "Weird. I had a feeling that madman liked cheese."

The officer returned to the cell, treading back over the seamless tiles to the white-haired man's side. It was only then, upon all my attention being drawn to someone who posed an expectation of danger, that I discovered the trio were only their own person through age. Everything else about the trio—rudimentary features, comprising lineaments, skin tone and hue, other various forms of complexion, facial ratio—were the same.

I was in the process of pulling the strings together to tie a rope when David Larson walked in. The white hair and wrinkled skin drawn up to his body was David; everything else about this man was a contradiction to him. The man had scars differential to those of Davids and had the excruciation of a higher age. He was not missing an eye and was not lacking a leg.

The ONI agent's face lit up brighter than new year's eve. "Ta-da! Behold, my legacy!"

"When I asked who you were, I was inquiring for a name—not an indication to something resembling certain info given to me through what I could extract from David Larson." I studied David's fellow clone, coming to the terminate thought that my situation was not only to recover David, but to break him in.

"You still don't know my name?" The agent crafted his face into something akin to a deep depression and disappointment, enhanced and swollen by his fake shock. "I thought Davy would've mentioned me."

"David's very reserved," I said. "And my sessions with him was only to build up a record for ONI. It appeared that Section III were worried that David might grow some selfish traits and pull away from the restraints they kept him in."

"Then I guess coming to you was quite unneeded."

"Why_ did_ you come to me?" I asked. "And before you answer that, tell me your_ name_."

"I'm John Smith. My rank doesn't matter as I assert that you will not uphold policies. And you're a civilian to begin with; the certain policies I speak of don't extend to you. And why am I here? Because a number of my boys, unacceptable by the standards ONI holds me by, have grown up through exposure to a world that no barrier protected them from. Unlike the Spartans and their abilities to remain machines, the Larson family was not meant for that; their priorities shifted at the coming of the Covenant. Today, a rising number of my sons are defecting to a joint-clone offensive against ONI."

I hummed meticulously with the subject. "ONI has enemies?_ By God_, what a happening!"

Smith went along, smiling, flashing his white teeth. Before speaking, he smacked his lips and ran a finger along their rims. "Abnormal enemies, doctor. These people_ grew up_ as children of ONI. Now they want our heads. Now here's the trouble with that: The clones, be them from the Larson family or others, have no moral or self-conscious; give them a gun and tell them to kill a passerby, they'll do it as long as the order doesn't come from ONI. This makes it hazardous for mankind; the clones can't understand that some of their actions against ONI are flinging fingers at all of Humanity."

Smith pointed to his swollen eye. "David gave me this. Right before he turned out of the blue, I was examining the body of Gabriel Larson, a clone killed by the Arbiter during an attempt on his life. Are you aware of the repercussions that will open up if the Arbiter found out that Gabriel belonged to a collective of clone operatives once_ owned_ by ONI?! He won't fall for the clones being rogue. He's already met David; he'll have his suspicions. Now, I'm here because Blackbird will need your future assistance. And, believe it or not, Lieutenant Fisher feels pretty nasty over sticking a gun to your head. An understanding needs to be met between you and ONI. For the better part of Humanity, we_ need_ to collaborate."

"How can_ I_ help? The only one of your_ clones_ I know personally is David. I can't offer the assistance you seem to be seeking, Smith. Trust me, I'd like to help—"

"—Ah, but you_ can_! David can still be saved. The rogue clones will come for him, but he_ can_ be broken back in. As unethical it may be, for the good of Humanity, David needs to either die or be taken into isolation. Whichever way serves, he won't be put back onto the line of duty." Smith leaned in, licking his chops like I was a meal he was about to devour, rich with nutrients that could not annihilate the longing for my taste but only expand it to the expectations of others. "And I'm_ sure_ you know some things about Davy that_ we_ don't."

"There's tapes of the sessions on my datapad."

John squinted one eye, bothered by my keen correction that declared war on his faculty. Unfortunately for me, he was not suggesting the session recordings. "I was actually veering towards what went on behind closed doors," Smith said, inclining his head as if he was averting himself around my counter. "See, the thing with David is that he wouldn't expose what he_ really_ felt in front of ONI. I was thinking someone he trusted."

"Try Red Jsarez."

"We're planning on approaching him. But you've been around David outside your one-on-one sessions." John extended his hand to me, saying, "Enlighten me for Humanity's interest. David has some dangerous information in his head, and it would destroy us as a species if that information got into our aggressor's hands. Cruel things must be done to preserve our species; that is what ONI is for: Doing what others cannot. And besides, you don't_ really_ care if we trim the fingertips from that Grunt?_ Yoplap_, was it?"

"Hurting that Grunt will hurt David." I paused, quickly resuming, with what I wanted to say clouding over my head. "Now, I hate the Unggoy, but I can't witness David in any shape of pain when he has found someone he cares for."

Smith sighed, rubbing his shriveled temples, frowning and at a loss. He was playing me to some extent. But he was also inerrant in his gestures, which meant that he had to improvise to earn my trust. "David's friendship is the price to be paid to keep some of the most confidential information in ONI's folders from reaching the wrong ears."

I attempted a game of risk in hopes of commandeering where this was going. Unbeknownst to me, I was only constricting my escape routes. "I need_ answers_ to why I should help you. What information are you referring to?"

Smith lost his ploy to mine. He replaced his tactics with a rigid, blunt face of anger entangled with missing forbearance. "Doctor, you know._ Everyone_ holding a part in EDEN knows to some extent. Don't they?"

I tried to swallow a resistant, thick lump in my throat. No attainment. To finally consume that gagging pulp of fear, I constricted my esophagus like it was the entire build of a python. With a clear passageway, I said with a voice being jolted by the hands of fear, "What—"

"—We're devoted to_ intelligence collecting_, doctor," Smith snarled as though an animal uncaged. He rose from his chair, spun his leg around and kicked the chair aside. The chains of his natural aggression deteriorated, allowing his true colors to bloom. He was a dead flower. "I'm done compromising, okay? You're going to answer all my questions. And your answers have got to be true; I can corroborate them. And for a bonus on your side? How about purchasing your friends some time to fight back."

The words "To fight back," was all I needed to hear. The growing disgust with myself, a partial shower now stirring into a storm, was gaining excuses to support the revulsion. But David would have to be killed for the Jsarez twins' uninterrupted safety. Was the sacrifice worth it?

Yes.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong>

I'm not dead; business, as usual, has really turned up the heat on me, and I was more than a little distracted. Joat the Goat is also to blame, so fling whatever complaints you have at him. I jest. He did all he could in the time he had, and I probably didn't make it better by pushing my revisions forward as a priority. That won't happen again; revised chapters will be published without a thorough proofreading. I'll also limit how much time I spend on revisions.

I've got a lot to cover—three weeks leaves a lot in its wake. I should start with something obvious—Blue Team are _totally _going to be co-op characters in Halo 5: Guardians, as is shown on the final cover art. Also, there's the chance that _other fan-favorite_ characters will be on Locke's team.

There's also the confirmation that Mendez is alive in 2558. Cameo alert! I love this guy; Mendez is one of my favorite characters from the extended lore, and I'm not passing up a chance for him not to make an appearance.

Additionally, I've made some progress on working out where this plot is going to go. I discovered who could be this "snake". With the snake, it's actually going to be a serpent—it's not going to be _him_, as he is a snake, but not a serpent. But _he _will be related.

I've done some changes with Vale Nar 'Sarasee and how his wife died/son was born. I didn't regard that Sangheili laid eggs at the time I wrote the references, so I went around and altered some things. Vale's wife contracted a rare disease that hits mothers and causes them to grow weak. Vale's wife died during childbirth, the egg also mixed in with the disease to exploit her weakened state. The egg was still _supposedly _destroyed after being declared an abomination. I will be exploring this route a bit more in the future.

Thank you **Starart132**, **Fleightfire**, **The Constitutionalist**, and **Trusne **for reviewing. Your words always go far, even if they don't seem sophisticated when you write them. I'm not one to try and persuade others into reviewing, but as an incentive, reviewers will get a sneak peek at a few paragraphs from the next chapter.

I also can't thank **Tmachgaming **and **Joat the Goat **enough for proofreading this chapter. Seriously, you pair—your words go a long way.


	62. Story Announcement

This chapter is my word being conveyed to my fifty-one followers. More so, it is for my constant reviewers,** Trusne**,** The Constitutionalist**,** Fleightfire**,** Starart132**, and my reliable proofreaders** Tmachgaming** and** Joat The Goat**.

I am extremely, profoundly sorry to inform you that I am to cease working on this story. Multiple reasons contribute to this decision and I will break them all down. It's bad enough that I have fallen victim to a blight where one discontinues something he began; I will not leave without making it known why.

**Burden**

When writing The Great Journey, I coincided that writing with publishing. I've made sub-plots that I wish I had never made, and rookie mistakes and inconsistencies have weighed me down. I compare this story to a jumbled mess in which there's so much going on that it's hard to keep track, and I don't want that. My rookie mistakes are preventing me from shining, here, and I want to abandon this story so I can enter an environment where I can write without my negatives constantly shaping my progress.

I find writing this story to be a burden. At a time where my life is surprisingly busy, I find a great deal of appeal in the strategy of writing a story to its conclusion before posting a single chapter at a time. Flaws with this tactic include changes being harder to make. But adopting this strategy would comfort me more in the long-run.

I feel this story is becoming too big. And, to be honest, I'm greedy. It's a natural Human emotion to want more, and with the effort I'm putting into this story, I find there's not really enough reception to keep me going. And I know this contradicts my previous statements that you reviewers keep me going. I know this sounds selfish of me and very arrogant, but I'm not ashamed of something I believe is normal for Humans.

Also, I think this story is implementing plot pieces that don't go well with keeping to the Haloverse's established canon. Previously, I began this story without concern for coherency. Now, I have to worry about my perfectionist traits continuously screaming at me that I have dug a hole that will make this story irrelevant as an imaginative add-on to the lore.

But there are more reasons . . .

**A Slight Version of Depression**

Recently, I did something very stupid.

I hurt an author of a popular fanfic. Our similarities saw us become friends. We conversed and agreed on so many different points that I was both astonished and excited to meet someone so like me.

Our long, expansive talks via private message culminated in him divulging some very personal details and offering to invite me into a writer's group on Facebook. I was enticed to agree to the proposition.

Our conversations over Facebook became more . . . immature as we allowed our inner boys to expose themselves. Very "teenagy" stuff came up and every time a session of this playful banter began, my juvenile persona rose and took hold of me.

Recently, this author released his next chapter. I read it and was prepared to review it the following day. However, before I wrote the review, he messaged me over Facebook, and one of these playful banter sessions began. It remained while I wrote the review, and this juvenile, close-minded persona that held dominion over me made me write stuff that I thought would make for an amusing joke at the time, but only ended up hurting and betraying someone I considered a potential life-long friend. It grew worse when this writer's group became involved, and I grew fearful for the growing fallout.

What I can only describe as a momentary depression kicked in. I spent two hours in a hot bath; my breathing became harder whenever I had to address this issue in any way and I felt tired constantly and energy just abandoned me. I isolated myself to my room and had multiple sessions of reflection on my past misdeeds and hating myself over them, concluding that I was a pathetic individual who wasn't as intelligent as he thought he was.

Fortunately, me and the author are on speaking terms again. We are communing around this, but I really can't handle contributing any way to this site after what I have done. I don't feel like I can write at the moment when I tainted something someone felt so passionately about. For a while, I just want to read and review, not write. What writing I will do will be done in the background where I don't have to worry about updating my story, etc.

This brings me to another point.

**A New Project**

A major flaw for any artist is to abandon a project to focus on something new. Good thing I'm not an artist. I'm a passionate sixteen-year-old writer who has yet to fully develop his mind and is frequently displaying signs of imperfection. Writing is a hobby for me, not a job. Until it is a job—if it ever is—I will remain flexible in what I do.

I want to apply what I've learned to something new that I hope I will put more love in than here because making up plans as I go has broken this story. You may not see it, but my efforts to make this story more interesting has broken what is logical in the Haloverse.

But I want to move away from this universe in favor of something personal. It regards this same author.

This author isn't a fan of the Haloverse. But I feel I am obligated to do more than just apologize to him and try to explain myself. If this site's management refuses to remove the stain from my friend's story, then I've got to make up for it myself.

I plan on writing a fanfiction set in a universe I and this author mutually love, dedicated to him. Central plot themes will be the issue we have just gone through. It won't be a replication of the ideas he has worked on, but rather my own original story in this universe.

This is not just for the author. I left a taint, and if it is forever to be viewable for the world, I want to look back and nod at my efforts to make things better. He may not even accept this gesture, but even so, I hope to enjoy writing this work far more than I do writing the Great Journey currently.

I don't think anyone can be_ truly_ perfect, and perfection in individuals annoys me. I'm prone to making mistakes I resent myself for. While these errors seem harmless to me at first, they usually escalate, mostly because I go out-of-my-way to make a joke that is badly tasted, insulting and ill-advised.

I believe I can be a good friend. I've not recently exhibited that, and it has made me question myself more than I ever wanted to. If my future project doesn't do anything to someone who I hope will remain a long-time friend, then it will at least bring me closure.

**Conclusion**

If one has read this far, I highly appreciate your dedication. One may be frustrated at my turn and immediate leave. Know that this isn't something I decided suddenly; I have been feeling the burden of writing in the environment I am in for a long time.

This is not something I do out of an obligation to a friend. I want this. I am sorry for all the time that you have basically wasted reading this, and I apologize that the end will never be met. I will ensure that something like this never happens again. But I am now moving into a state that I will find more comforting to write in.

Thanks go to everyone who has stuck with me. I distinctly remember several people mentioning their favor for this story and how they found it to be one of the best Halo fanfics they have read. Iam not particularly sad to leave these characters behind, however, as they have traits and backgrounds I dislike; I wrote them when I had a different mindset on what makes a good character. The same goes with the plot.

I am going to wait twenty-four hours before listing this story as "Discontinued". Don't try and dissuade me from this as it will only prove you to be someone who doesn't respect my wishes to abandon this story for something else. And someone who doesn't respect my wishes is not someone I will, in turn, respect.

Let it not go unsaid that it's been a fun year. And for me, it's not going to waste.


End file.
